Free My Heart
by Tempestt
Summary: A/U Frieza followed Vegeta to Earth and destroyed everything. Now imprisioned together, Vegeta and Bulma must look beyond their hatred and find a way to survive.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dragon Ball Z.

WARNING: Profanity! As always my stories contain an element of grittiness that is not for children. Please be of age to read this, it does have adult content. Also be aware that although I use rape as a threat, this IS NOT a rape fic.

Free My Heart

"I won't do it."

Bulma was nearly bent in half by the force of the man bearing down from behind her. His thick arm was banded around her waist like an iron bar and his other hand was wrapped tightly around her fist, nearly crushing it. In her clenched hand was an electro-whip; a handle with several live, sparking wires flaring from the top. The sparks cascaded to the floor in a beautiful, but deadly shower of gold as the wires tangled around each other.

Before her knelt her most hated enemy. Vegeta was naked to the waist, dressed only in a pair of tight, ragged blue trousers, his bare feet tucked under him. His arms were held behind him by a steel bar that was threaded between his elbows and back, thrusting his chest forward, making him look like a hard, impenetrable wall of muscle. His ruddy skin, slick with sweat, glistened under the harsh interior lighting of the ship. There was a thick, metal collar around his neck, and a series of red flickers along the left side kept catching Bulma's attention.

He looked differently than he had through Baba's magic ball. His physique was thick with heavily defined, layered muscles, though he still looked lithe and agile, even bound the way he was. He wasn't nearly as small as she remembered. Though his malevolence still wafted off him like a bad odor.

He did seem more regal. As if time and time again he had been made to bow before his tormentors, but he refused to give way to them. His silent pride gave her strength that was both comforting and disturbing. He bore the bruises of an earlier beating around his ribs and jaw, but he still held his head up defiantly, daring her with dark, fathomless eyes to bring the whip down around his shoulders. She despised and admired him.

As she glared down at him, all she could think was she had never hated anyone more than he. Because of him, her world was a smoking ruin and all that she loved was dead. He was personally responsible for the death of her friends, for the murder of her lover, Yamacha. It was he, who had brought death to her doorstep in the form of a grinning lizard bent on total destruction.

Her arm quivered with the need to bring down the whip. To lash at him again and again until he bled rivers of blood, but she refused to do so. She was Bulma Briefs. A humanitarian. A believer in mercy. She was not a monster like the beast before her. She was better than him.

"Oh, c'mon. You know you want to. You hate him. He did this to you. He destroyed everything. We're here because of him." A silky voice whispered in her ear.

The green alien Zarbon had a face like an angel and a voice of a siren. Every fiber of her being that was trained to adore all things beautiful responded to him, felt the pull of his temptation. But where Vegeta wore his monstrosity on his face for everyone to see, showing the world what he truly was, Zarbon hid behind the beauty of his amber eyes and perfect kissable lips. He was a devil. Grotesque and terrible to the core, bent on breaking her down until nothing was left of her or her soul.

"I won't." Her voice shook but she strove to make it as loud as she could. She would not be made small. She would stand her ground and be tall in her convictions, even as her body was being trampled.

Her defiance was infuriating to the man and he whirled her about, the unused whip falling to the ground.

"You will or you'll regret it." To enhance his threat he backhanded her hard across her mouth, splitting her lips. She lost her balance falling backwards. She was able to twist her body around putting her arms out to save herself from a fall, but instead she collided hard with Vegeta who absorbed the impact with the steadiness of a well-rooted tree.

Vegeta felt the woman's blood splatter across his chest. Its metallic scent instantly flooded his senses, mixing with the salty tang of her tears. The sensation was strong enough to pull him from his own thoughts of self pity. He had been so close to achieving immortality. When he had heard Raditz conversation over the scouter, he had felt a surge of elation that was nearly over-whelming. For the first time in nearly a decade he allowed himself to believe there was a chance to redeem his race, and overthrow the evil Ice-jinn who enslaved him.

Unbeknownst to him, Frieza was having all of their communications monitored, and had set course for Earth just as Vegeta had. He arrived in time to watch as Vegeta blasted Nappa for failing to defeat the human warriors. From there Vegeta's easy victory turned to ash as Frieza immediately beat him for daring to deviate from his given mission and participating in mutiny. He was then sent to the bowels of Frieza's flag ship for an undetermined amount of time while he was taught why it was bad idea to ever think it was possible to be free of the lizard's rule.

At the appearance of the strange woman days later, and the ragged darkness of loss in her eyes, Vegeta could only assume the logical. Her world was a burning ruin, and all that she loved was dead. She had now joined the millions of people who suffered under Ice-jinn rule. One of the unlucky ones to survive the purge of her home world.

The woman steadied herself against him, leaning heavily into his chest. He could feel each individual press of her fingertips digging into his bicep, as if she was trying to burying herself inside him to hide from the agony that was sure to come.

For just the tiniest moment, he wished that he could absorb her. Take her inside him and protect her. The unexpected urge shocked him. She was such a small and delicate thing. So incomprehensibly fragile compared to him. That was why Zarbon and Jeice turned their malicious attentions towards her. The two lovers liked to play with small things. Watch them squirm and writhe while they poked and prodded. They spent a lot of their free time down in the dungeons of the ship, looking for new prey to excite them before they fell on each other in a frenzy of sexual excitement.

At the moment they had yet to turn their attention to him. Although the whip was posed over his head, it wasn't aimed at him. It was all for her benefit. They were breaking her down, forcing their will onto hers until she caved and became nothing more than a lifeless puppet. Somehow, Vegeta knew when she did cave, then she would be done. They could break her body and she would persevere, but if they broke her spirit, the very thing that made her who she was, then she would never recover.

Vegeta welcomed the vengeance in her blue eyes as she glared down at him, the whip raised over her head by another's hand. He was comfortable with evoking those sorts of emotions from people. Hatred, vengeance, anger, those were things he could feed off of and become stronger. What he couldn't stand was her reluctance to do him harm. Her refusal to lash out at him, even though she so clearly hated him. Mercy in another person only increased his rage at the universe. Mercy was a weakness that got you killed. In the woman's case, mercy was a weakness that was getting her tortured.

She was on her knees now, her silky hair brushing against his square jaw. Her wet face slid against the taut skin over his chest, leaving trails of blood and tears. He heard her ragged intake of breath, just before she exhaled. A rush of warm air feathered across his neck, raising bumps in its wake. She pushed away from him a few inches, her eyes downcast, as if she couldn't bear to look at him, even though she still held his bicep in a tight grip.

"Now, now, my dear. No hiding from us." Zarbon chuckled, looping his long, elegant fingers around her forearm to lift her to her feet. Bulma panicked and she leaned closer to Vegeta, griping his arm. He smelled of musk and sweat, and something indeterminately male. For just a moment, she felt infinitely safer next to the monster that came to kill her friends. At least tethered as he was, he could do her no harm, unlike the man who was pulling on her.

"Just do it," Vegeta growled at her in a rough voice that only she could hear. Her sapphire eyes shot up to his, and he felt an intense jolt of longing tug on his guts. In her gaze, he didn't see hate or anger, just fear; naked, primal fear, which for once had nothing to do with him. "It's not like it hasn't been down a thousand times before."

And it was true. He had been beaten numerous times in the past, too many to count. He was used to the electrical fire of the whip searing through his veins, or the bone rattling thud of a fist grating his ribs together. He could take a beating just as easily as he could breathe, but the woman could not. Her white skin was soft and smooth like whipped cream, unbroken and unmarred, except for the obscene smear of blood that spread across her cheek. He could see the dark beginnings of a bruise around her lips, and he couldn't stop the frown that pulled at his brows. Her eyes widen and she drew away from him, afraid.

"Get on your feet, slave," Zarbon sneered, pulling insistently on her arm. "I want to show you something." The evil salaciousness in his voice set every survival instinct inside Bulma screeching in alarm.

"No!" she shouted, and lunged towards Vegeta, breaking Zarbon's hold. She wrapped her thin arms around Vegeta's broad shoulders, trying to lock her hands behind him, but he was far too wide.

"What the hell."

Zarbon reached down with both hands, grabbing her under the armpits, and yanked. Hard. She slid away from Vegeta, her nails leaving deep grooves as she dug into his back. He didn't even flinch, and she never noticed the harm she caused, so panicked was she at the thought of what Zarbon had in store for her next.

He pulled her off Vegeta, and she was forced to stand on her feet or else stay on the floor where she was more vulnerable. She kicked at him, screaming threats, as tears flooded down her face. Her once pink blouse, now nearly brown with dirt and sweat, ripped and one white breast popped free. She scrambled to cover herself, but it was too late. Jeice, who had been lounging in the background, indulging in some fruit while he watched his lover work, now he stood up like a beast on point.

"Goku will come. He will find his way home and he will destroy you all for what you have done!"

Vegeta felt something clench tight in his chest at her mention of the other man, but anger quickly burned it out. Goku was the savior the human warriors had crowed about as they faced off against him. Goku, the supposedly orphan Saiyan, Raditz had put so much faith in. If he had just taken his place in Vegeta's ranks then perhaps this could have all been avoided. If the stupid humans had just told him where the Dragon Balls were at perhaps he could have made his wish before Frieza had come. The word 'if' was Vegeta's bane. His entire life, was composed of 'ifs' and 'maybes', but never did fate play in his favor.

"That's a lot of faith to be putting in one man, little girl. But I can't blame you. Hope is addicting. It's a drug that you swallow down and savor, but the high wears off much too quickly. In the end it always leaves you begging for more, even as you are crying out for it all to stop. I don't want to see a beautiful creature such as yourself itching for just one more hit. No, that wouldn't be good at all." Zarbon brushed his fingers over her swelling cheek, smirking as she jerked away from his touch. "I'm just going to have to do my best to wean you off it. So whenever you feel the nasty sensation of hope rising up in that perfect, perky chest of yours," he dropped his hand to cover her bare breast, squeezing it painfully, " you just might remember that soon there will be no home for anyone to come back to. Earth is going to be nothing more than dust in space when Frieza is done. So I wouldn't go putting faith into something that can never happen."

Bulma went limp at Zarbon's words, and Vegeta could see a small glimmer of her light go out in her eyes. Zarbon was a master at all things sadistic. If there was a way to break you, he would find it. And by the look in her eye, he was finding it. Vegeta looked away, unable to watch anymore of their games.

Zarbon's face pressed against her cheek as she struggled, and she could feel him grin against her skin. She saw movement to her left, and she hunched her shoulders, trying to squirm away. Jeice sauntered towards them, his hips dipping with a feminine sway. Up until now he had been quiet, but the slick grin that spread across his lips made her stomach plummet.

"I know what you are thinking; my darling, but I have a more delicious idea." He leaned close to Zarbon, whispering in his ear. Bulma couldn't hear what he said and she didn't want to. She was leaning away from Zarbon, his hard muscled arm, pressing uncomfortably into her stomach. At her feet, Vegeta was looking away from her, his dark eyes focused on the wall. She felt his loss immensely. With his gaze he took her strength and she felt weak and afraid.

"You are too wicked, my pretty," Zarbon snickered, and shifted his weight so he could kick Vegeta in the side of the head. Bulma gasped at the unsolicited violence, but Vegeta barely blinked.

"Did you know that our most noble prince has never raped a woman? Some would go as far to say that he's never _had_ a woman." Zarbon was speaking to her, but Bulma could see Vegeta's muscles ripple across his chest in response.

"Those people think that the prince is a eunuch, but we know differently, don't we, darling?" Jeice chimed in, his voice sickly similar to Zarbon's. The insinuation he slathered on every word was enough to make Bulma's skin crawl. She wanted to melt away and hide, but she couldn't escape this hell. And she was afraid that she never would.

"Oh yes, Vegeta entire package is definitely intact. Whether or not he uses it, is the real question. Vegeta thinks its beneath him to take a woman."

Both men giggled as if that was the most absurd thing they had ever heard. Bulma looked down at Vegeta, confused why he was continuing to stare at the wall as though he was embarrassed. As if the men's taunting were actually a defect instead of an honorable trait in Vegeta's character.

"Well, I think between the three of us, we can answer that question. Don't you think so?" Zarbon prodded, and Bulma felt her world shrink in on her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, and she wished to God that she couldn't feel either.

"Now the real question isn't if he uses it, but how long it will take him."

Finally, Vegeta looked up to meet her eyes. While their two tormentors laughed in the background they stared at each other, both their gazes filled with equal amounts of trepidation and disgust.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I don't own or profit from DBZ

A/N: Thank you so much for your kind reviews. I know I've been missing for a while, and honestly I never expected to be writing DBZ again, or frankly much of anything. But my muse, bless her heart, has seen fit to grace me with her presence once again. And I have learned when she visits you in a dream, its best to write down what she says before it slips away.

I'm sorry if this story or my writing seems too similar to my previous work. I guess if you have a style it's hard to change it. I'll try to make this as interesting as possible.

Free My Heart

Vegeta sat on the floor in the corner of the tiny room, lulling his head back against the wall so he could stare at the ceiling. Outside he could hear the woman screaming, but he fought hard to push it into the background. Screams, curses, sadistic laughter. His entire life was a symphony of terror. For once he would just like to indulge in pure, sweet silence. No pained weeping in the distance, or groveling at his feet. Just blessed, merciful silence.

The steel door opened with an ear-piercing screech, and Vegeta closed his eyes in the vain hope of blocking it out. The woman's weeping became louder, and Zarbon's laughter bounced off the cold walls. Vegeta listened with closed eyes as something soft and fragile was dumped on the ground. Just as abruptly the door slammed shut, cutting off the laughter, but the crying remained. It was siren loud, splitting Vegeta's skull open like an axe. He kept his eyes closed, trying not to hear, to feel or to see, just trying to get back to before--before Frieza, before his father, before there was even light. Every night he tried to go back as far as he could, back to the womb. Surely there, in that safe place, there would have been silence.

The crying deepened to bone-wracking sobs. The kind, which sound like wet gasping breathes, and although Vegeta had heard those cries many times before, this time he couldn't drown them out. His focus kept coming back to her with gut-jarring intensity. He knew the reason wasn't just because she was in the room with him. It was her. The _woman_. There was something about her that held his attention like nothing ever had before in his thirty years. She was crying, and he didn't like it.

He fingered the collar around his neck. If he had the power he would have blasted her. Then she would be silent and he could finally have a little peace, but he was powerless while wearing his chain. Perhaps he could just snap her neck? He dropped his chin, opening his eyes to glare down at the pile of blue hair and white skin on the steel floor.

Like him she was completely naked, except while he was able to withstand the cold, she could not. She was shivering violently, her entire body rocking with the force of her tremors and sobs of pity. And that was what it was, self pity. In Vegeta's experience that's all tears were. You either cried because you were in pain and didn't have the self control to withstand it or you were feeling sorry for yourself and your situation. Someone once told him that people cried because of sorrow. Because they had lost someone they loved, but Vegeta thought that was just self pity as well. Obviously whoever was dead was better off, and the survivor was just moaning about having to suffer through life like everyone else.

Slowly he stood up, his tail slithering out from between his legs where it was keeping his genitals warm and wrapping around his waist. He stared down at the woman who was curled up in the fetal position. His eyes traveled from the tip of her pink painted toes, up her long legs, and around the curve of her tight ass to the arch of her back. Her thin arms were crossed protectively over her chest, and her long blue hair covered her face and spilled out across the stainless steel floor. She was much too skinny for him. He could see every bump of her spine along her back, and the branching of her ribs. The woman was in dire need of a meal.

He came up behind her, watching has she hunched her shoulders, trying to curl up into herself even tighter. He couldn't help the sneer of disgust lifting his lip. Instead of springing to her feet to defend herself she was just laying there waiting to get kicked. She was nothing but a pathetic victim and she was never going to be anything different unless she stood up for herself. Briskly he bent down, and grabbed her up. He expected her to be light, but she was ridiculously so.

"No! Get your fucking hands off me, you bastard!" she screamed, bucking wildly in his arms. He bounced her slightly, getting a better grip before talking a few steps across the room.

"Don't get your hopes up, woman. I wouldn't lower myself to fuck such a disgusting creature like yourself."

He abruptly tossed her on the single cot in the room, and turned on his heel, returning to his corner. Bulma sat up, whipping her mass of hair out of her eyes to glare daggers at him. Vegeta ignored her as he slid down the wall, coming to rest on the floor with one knee modestly raised. He propped up his arm, and Bulma watched as his muscles bunched over his chest. A streak of crimson blood bisected his flat brown nipple, prompting her to gently touch her wounded lips.

He wore her blood on his chest like a badge, and it made something strange and warm quiver in the bottom of her belly. She dipped her head, and seeing he wasn't intent on doing her harm at the moment, made quick work of wrapping the room's only blanket around her body. Ugly, gray and coarse, it made her itch like mad, but she ignored it the best she could.

The act of doing something, no matter how mundane, stilled the flow of her tears. When Zarbon and Jeice had stripped her down outside, she had been terrified. She thought for sure they were going to rape her horribly. Instead they had just laughed and thrown her in the room with Vegeta. The tears she cried on the floor had been partly out of fear, but mostly it was from grief. The last few days, she had watched as everything and everyone she loved was destroyed. She had fought hard to squelch the wave of invaders, but no weapons could stop them. The rest of the Z warriors had been killed almost immediately, and Goku never made his promised appearance. That left the rest of the human populace to fight the aliens off, but it had been useless. Even with every experimental trick in her lab's arsenal, the military was still no match for them. Soon everything was a smoking ruin with only a few survivors.

The soldiers had laid waste to her compound in a matter of moments. Capsule Corporations buildings were leveled and her labs destroyed. She had been in the living quarters when they came for her, squatting next to her parents bodies, which were half buried beneath a fallen beam. She fought, screamed and scratched with all her might, but it seemed beauty was enough to get you a one way ticket to hell, or as they called it, Lord Frieza's ship.

She and a parade of other women had been brought down to the lower levels for 'reprogramming' when Jeice had signaled her out from the crowd. Weary and half-lifeless with sorrow, they brought her to stand over Vegeta to begin their sick, twisted games.

"Why are they doing this?" she whispered without really expecting an answer.

"They want to see how long it will take me to fall on you like some rutting animal. They think if they throw us in this cell together naked it will just be a matter of time. As if I, the Prince of All Saiyans, would ever have so little self control as that."

Bulma glanced at him then quickly looked away, tightening the blanket around her shoulders. She had never seen someone so comfortable with their own skin as he. He just sat there with no consideration of physical discomfort or how he looked. He just accepted with quiet dignity his circumstances. Waiting, she was certain, for the moment when he could spring up and claim his bloody revenge. She glanced at him again, noting how he watched the door to the cell, like a lion waiting in the grass for an antelope to wander by.

"So I needn't worry about you then?"

Vegeta snorted, and she could see his ivory teeth from beneath the curl of his lip.

"As I said, I would never fuck something so ugly." The contempt in his voice was thick enough to make Bulma's own lip curl back into a snarl.

"I'll have you know, Vegeta, I'm the most beautiful woman on my planet."

Vegeta glanced over at her, his black eyes casually examining her.

"Really? You're going to advertise that now? Do you want me to rape you?"

Bulma gasped in outrage, and the cuts on her lips stung as her jaw dropped.

"Of course not," she snapped back.

"Then what the fuck are you talking about?" Vegeta asked pointedly, and Bulma felt heat suffusing her cheeks.

"Nothing. Never mind. I'm very ugly." She dropped her gaze to her lap, her lower lip protruding. Her entire life had been destroyed, and now she couldn't even cling to the one thing she had left; her beauty.

"Butt-ass ugly. Swamp thing ugly. Disgusting, maggot-infested---"

"All right! I get it. Shut the fuck up already," Bulma snapped, her sapphire eyes narrowing dangerously, but Vegeta wasn't looking at her anymore. He was back to staring intently at the door.

They lapsed into silence, and Bulma lay back on the bed, curled up as tightly as she could. The all metal room was cold, and the thin blanket was hardly warm. She glanced at Vegeta but he was motionless and seemingly unaffected by the chill in the air or by the cold metal he was sitting on. She was about to close her eyes, when she heard a repetitive clicking sound from down the hall, rushing nearer.

As she sat up, the bright overhead lights shut off, drenching them in thick darkness. She let out a muffled shriek, and pulled her knees to her chest.

"What's going on?" she whimpered, looking around for Vegeta, but the darkness was so complete she couldn't even see her hand in front of her face.

"Lights out."

"Just like that? No warning?"

"Just like that." Vegeta's voice was cold in the darkness, and it made Bulma feel even more alone. Now she was without sight, she couldn't help but to remember that she was alone in the dark with a killer. A monster who slaughtered people for recreation, and the only thing stopping him from raping her was his word.

"No dinner?" she asked, grasping for any straw. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be home in her own bed, with her parents just down the hall and the knowledge that she would wake up to a beautiful day.

"Guess not."

"Can they do that? It's not right."

"Fuck woman, you are stupid. What do you want? A bed time story too? Just shut up and go to sleep."

Bulma buried her face in her knees, and tried not to think about the darkness. Her hot tears soaked the blanket untill eventually she couldn't keep her sobs silent.

Vegeta heard her ragged breaths and the muffled sobs. It made him want to gorge his ear drums out. What was worse was that with his night vision he could see her shadow cowering on the bed. She was so small, almost child-like. He never had mercy for child, so he couldn't understand what it was about her tears that made his throat close up and his chest hurt.

"Why are you carrying on now?" he snapped.

It was a long time before she answered, and her tears only seemed to get worse.

"I'm afraid." She finally choked out. "I'm afraid of going to sleep. I'm afraid of dreaming of summer days and strawberries. I'm afraid of the nightmares I'll have of the things I've seen the last couple of days. I'm afraid you're lying and really are going to hurt me. But mostly I'm afraid of waking up in the morning, and for just a split second forgetting everything and thinking I'm back home, only to have to live through the moment of realization that I'm not."

Vegeta closed his eyes against her words, and tilted his head back against the steel wall. He swallowed the hard lump scouring the inside of his throat.

"I won't hurt you."

There was only the sound of her slowly lessening sobs drifting between them. Vegeta kept his eyes closed, counting silently between breaths, calming his senses.

"You promise?" she whispered to her knees, and Vegeta had to strain to hear.

He opened his eyes, staring into the darkness. He couldn't take away her dreams or nightmares. Or the one terrible moment upon waking. He couldn't do that for her, because he couldn't do it for himself. For twenty years, since his father placed him with Frieza, he had been living through the same moment. So, no, he couldn't take that away for her, but he could give her his promise that he wouldn't hurt her. If it would take away her tears, at least for a short while, then he could do that.

"I promise."

Her ragged breaths evened out, and he watched as she lay back on the cot. She curled up into a ball, and he knew it was less about the cold and more about trying to ward off the darkness. He sat there, listening as her breathing deepened and she fell into sleep. Once she was finally still, he went back to watching the door. Staring. Waiting. Stalking.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own or profit from Dragon Ball Z.

AN: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I dearly value all aspects of your feedback.

These first chapters are a little slow, just covering the essentials and creating the mood as it may be. It will be picking up very soon, I promise.

I'm just going to tell you up front, this is the chit-chattiest Vegeta I've ever written. It's actually very challenging. To go from writing a man whose favorite response is no response, to someone who completes full sentences and participates in conversations is hard. I mean, what does a guy like Vegeta talk about, without making him OOC? But frankly, I have them locked up together in a tiny room. I just can't have them go at it like bunnies….fun as that may be. Besides its Bulma—I imagine she could figure out how to make corpses talk.

My kid makes me watch entirely too much Shrek…

Free My Heart

Light glared into the room with such blinding intensity it almost burned Bulma's eyeballs straight out of her skull. She groaned, covering her face with the rough blanket. She was sore and bone-weary from sleeping the old, uncomfortable cot. A bar dividing the bed in half pressed into Bulma's lower back the entire night. She would have dragged the thin, ratty mattress to the floor, and slept there, if she hadn't been so afraid to move. The darkness had been complete throughout the night, and she had been unwilling to venture out into it.

The sound of metal slamming against metal, jerked her upright, and she blinked as two bowls came spinning into the room, launched from a tiny open at the bottom of the cell door.

"Breakfast." A coarse voice sneered from behind the hole, drawing Bulma's attention to the bowls' meager contents. Each one held a small serving of thin gruel and a hunk of dark bread.

Bulma's empty stomach rolled in protest as she glared at the offering. She never was, and never would be, a morning person.

"What? No fruit? How about some parfait? Everybody likes parfait."

The guard completely missing her jab at sarcasm, laughed while shutting the door with a resounding slam that made her ears ring.

"How about you come back here so we can roast you up on a spit? I feel like eating _PIG_ today!" Bulma screamed at the door, not really expecting a response.

She was still scowling when she noticed Vegeta staring quizzically at her from the corner of her eye. She glanced over at him, noting he was in the exact position from the night before.

"What?" she growled grumpily before rubbing her face roughly with the palms of her hands. She hissed, quickly withdrawing her hands. Her lips stung painfully and her jaw ached where Zarbon hand slapped her. She could only imagine how horrible she looked with her swollen lips and cheek, not to mention how mottled her bruise must be.

Vegeta shifted his gaze away from her, but he kept watch through veiled lashes. Her bloodthirsty outburst at the guard simultaneously amused him and aroused him. Her sense of humor was unique in its own quirkiness, but it was her snarling demeanor he found really attractive. Most women were either demure in his presence or they were outright vulgar in their attempts to seduce him. His rank in Frieza's army wasn't as low as Zarbon liked to think. He was coveted by many women and some men for his power, and knowing how conniving people were, was the reason he didn't pursue relationships with his fellow soldiers.

The female he shared a cell with was an enigma. She feared him, but wasn't cowed by him. She hated him, but wouldn't raise a violent hand against him. The grotesque bruise on her face made him angry, when all he should feel is disinterest. She made him want to protect, when he should destroy.

Vegeta didn't reply and Bulma didn't really care. She stood up, ignoring how cold the floor was on her bare feet and walked over to her bowl. The food smelled even worse than it looked, and she wondered how she was ever going to choke it down. Worse, she wondered how long it would be before she was hungry enough to gobble down every disgusting morsel pushed her way. She took the bowl back to her cot, poking at it despondently.

From beneath lowered lashes she watched as Vegeta lifted himself from the ground with an innate fluidity that made her jealous. Though he had sat on the cold floor the entire night, he showed no signs of stiffness. She was fascinated with his furry tail that slipped from between his legs, to slither around his waist in a make-shift belt. She quickly ducked her head, hiding behind her bangs while trying not to look at what was dangling between his muscular thighs.

He turned his back to her, and she had to suck in her breath. Across his back were deep horizontal gorges crusted with dried blood. Belatedly she remembered how she had clung to him the day before, as if he could be her savior, her anchor in the storm. Inadvertently she had caused him injury. For a moment, she thought about apologizing, but she thought better of it. He didn't seem to be in any pain, and reminding him of his wounds didn't seem to be a good idea.

Her eyes wandered down the rest of his body as he bent over to pick up his bowl. She was used to seeing finely muscled men every day, but there was something about the taut slope of Vegeta's hindquarters which was supremely satisfying. His skin was so smooth and sleek it looked like poured bronze. No one should ever look so perfectly sculptured. Especially a man with such a rotten-to-the-core personality.

He resumed his place in the corner, but instead of sitting he merely leaned his shoulders back against the wall, and crossed his ankles as he ate. Using his bread as a spoon, he inhaled his food with such relish she was tempted to try a bite of her own food to see if it really was good. She grimaced at the first bite. It tasted like rotten lettuce pureed with pig slop, and the bread was so hard it nearly broke her teeth. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to take another bite, while fantasizing about her mama's sweet bread the entire time.

Half way through she couldn't stomach anymore and pushed her plate aside. Vegeta was staring at the far wall, his plate discarded by his feet. She could only imagine how hungry he was. Evil bastard that he was, he was still a Saiyan and if he was anything like Goku he needed to eat three times more food in order to be satisfied.

"Do you want the rest of mine?"

Vegeta glanced over at her, his black eyes cold and assessing as they scraped over her bare shoulders and thin arms, making her feel scrawny and insignificant.

"Eat it." He looked away, dismissing her as nothing.

Bulma's first instinct was to retreat. He made her feel awkward. Like a freshman in a senior class or as if she was lower than nothing, and to even to exist was an insult to the world. But Bulma was no quitter. No matter how she felt on the inside, it was how she comported herself on the outside that mattered. Years of being the center of media frenzies had taught her that very important lesson.

She marshaled her composure, and regally walked over to him, her plate in hand. She didn't stop until she was directly in front of him, her blue eyes drilling into his dark ones challengingly.

"I know you're hungry, Vegeta. Saiyans eat five times their weight in food a day."

He stared her down unflinchingly, and it took all of Bulma's inner strength not to cower in front of him.

"You are more in need of food than I, woman." He sneered at her as he spoke, but Bulma didn't see beyond his words. She stared at him for a moment, digesting what he said, not how he said it. If she was to remove all his disgust, and insulting insinuation, the words themselves were considerate. He was actually taking in account her survivability, here in this dank dungeon where there was only the two of them. In his own twisted way he was caring for her.

She took a jarring step backwards, her keen analytical mind processing information at an astronomical rate. Vegeta was a cold-blooded bastard who destroyed everyone and everything she had ever known. But he was also the only person standing between her and certain horrific humiliation and death. It was better to stroke the ferocious lion behind the ears than it was to grab its tail.

She looked at her plate. There wasn't much left of her gruel, but a large chunk of bread remained. She placed it between them so it was directly below his nose, before giving him the widest, most dazzling smile in her arsenal.

"Are you kidding? You don't think I have this drop-dead gorgeous, absolutely delectable body, by gorging on everything that crosses my path do you?" She glanced over her shoulder at the door, while snorting delicately. "I mean, seriously, they don't think starvation tactics will actually work on a human female, do they? We live to diet. And bread? I don't think so. I so don't do carbs."

She hoped her stomach didn't rumble to give away her lie, but deep down, she knew Vegeta needed more food than she did to survive. Saiyan metabolism was a tricky thing, and if he didn't get enough food he would eventually get weaker. And if her plans of escape were ever to come to fruition then she needed Vegeta in as top form as he could be.

"Well that would explain why you humans are so scrawny. If your women are constantly starving how could you possibly hope to give birth to strong offspring?" He grabbed the plate from her, and she huffed in response, before sauntering away. Her empty plate hit the floor before she made it back to the bed, and she silently rolled her eyes.

"Hey, why haven't you blasted your way out of here yet? As far as I can tell these walls are made of nothing more than steel. That's barely even a barrier for a Saiyan. You should be able to break through them like paper-mache'."

Vegeta pushed off the wall, his eyes boring into her intently. She clutched the blanket and swallowed as he slowly stalked towards her. It took all of her willpower not to let her eyes drop lower to see what was between his legs.

"The collar I wear doesn't allow me to marshal my powers."

Unconsciously his words drew her eyes to the metal collar banding his thick neck. The flashing red lights were almost hypnotic, like they were telling her a story, or maybe a secret. If she could just touch it, she might be able to hear what they were trying to say to her. Vegeta loomed over her, casting her in his shadow, his face an impenetrable mask that made her shiver. She stepped back, her calves bumping the cot.

"So you only have the strength of an ordinary man," she whispered up at him. He grinned at her slowly, his teeth flashing beneath his curled lip. He reached out to grip her bare arms, tugging her closer.

"I assure you, I am no ordinary man," he whispered back, his lips a hairsbreadth from hers. She was paralyzed by his presence, and could barely move much less speak, but she forced out her words.

"I meant the strength of a human."

He shook his head slowly, pulling her up so she was up on her tip toes.

"You talk an awful lot about Saiyans. How is that you know what I am, little female? How is it that you know _me?_" he asked, his voice a soft threat that sent every nerve in Bulma's body tingling. "Are you a spy placed by Zarbon? Are you working with him to destroy me?"

Bulma felt her eyes bug with fear, and her toes curled up off the floor. She shook her head rapidly, her hair tumbling around her face.

"Goku is my best friend. Or was. I've known him since we were kids. He's always had a big appetite," she replied in a rush. "I watched as you fought my friends before Frieza arrived, through a crystal ball. I swear I'm no spy."

Vegeta stared at her intently, searching for the lie in her transparent face. The tips of her silky hair brushed the backs of his hands; it was all he could do not to shudder in pleasure. For all her frailty, she really was a beautiful little thing. If she was a spy, then Zarbon had chosen correctly. Her exotic looks and fragileness appealed to him in a way warrior women or sex slaves did not. There was no deceit in her crystal blue eyes, but what he did see disturbed him greatly. Of course there was fear, but he had long ago learned to look beyond that. Behind her fear was something else, something far darker. It was loneliness. The type of lonely occurring only when you are surrounded by people, and yet completely isolated from them. It was a type of loneliness Vegeta was intimately familiar with.

He thrust her away from him, turning away to stare at the door.

"Crystal ball?" he questioned, without really being interested in the answer. He was just looking for a segue to a different topic.

Bulma released her pent up breath. The brave girl inside her was screaming to stand her ground and not to let him push her around, but the voice of reason in her head cautioned her. For once she listened to reason, and she had passed through her first real hurdle with Vegeta.

"It's sort of like a remote viewing device." Bulma doubted Vegeta would be interested in the intricacies of ancient magic. She hardly was. She liked cold hard science. It never lied, and the answer was always the same, no matter how many times you ran the equation.

"And in case you're wondering, my name is Bulma," she snapped to cover her weakness. She sat back down on the cot, suddenly exhausted. She stuck her tongue out at Vegeta's back when he just shrugged at her introduction.

Now the excitement was over, she had to pee. Confrontation always did that to her for some reason. Some people got belly aches from stress, she got a leaky bladder.

She glanced around the room, noting a small box and a sink in the corner. She slid off the cot, being sure to keep as much distance between her and Vegeta as possible. As soon as she moved, the skin between Vegeta's shoulder's blades twitched and he moved away, returning to his corner.

The box came to her knees and was covered with a lid. Her nose wrinkling in distaste, she flipped it up to peer inside. As she suspected it was a toilet, though it was cleaner than she expected. She turned to Vegeta, who was making a very pointed effort not to look at her. However, she could still see his profile and she had no doubt that he had excellent peripheral vision.

"What?" he snapped after she continued to stare at him.

"I have to pee."

"Good for you."

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, but didn't move from her position.

"What?" he snapped louder, turning to look. His face was a thunderstorm of annoyance, which just increased the pressure in her bladder even more.

"Well I can't—you know. Can you turn around or something?"

"Fuck woman. Like I want to watch you do that. Just do it and quit your yapping."

For a minute she thought he was going to ignore her request. But he turned around, leaning his forearm on the far wall with his back to her. For a moment she just stared, her eyes following the line of his spine as it curved down between his wide shoulder blades before dipping at his lower back. She could see each divot and bunching of his muscles as he flexed. He truly was perfect, right down to his heels.

She shook herself, and hiked up the blanket so she could sit down.

And waited.

Normally she wasn't timid. She had peed enough times in public restrooms to be used to people being in the next stall, but those had been women. They certainly weren't bare-ass (emphasis on the really nice bare-ass currently presented to her) men who were standing in the same room.

She hurriedly turned on the facet next to her, sighing audibly as it did the trick. Once she was done, she was faced with another dilemma. She turned off the water and cleared her throat.

"Fucking kill me. What now?"

"How do I wipe? I mean. I don't see any tissue."

Vegeta's wide shoulders shook and she couldn't tell if it was amusement or rage. He dropped his forehead to his arm before he answered.

"Just step on the button by your foot, and don't get off the seat."

Bulma dragged her eyes from the fine form Vegeta was presenting her and found the button on the floor to step on. She heard the toilet flush, and then suddenly a spray of cold water shot up between her legs. She screeched, flying off the toilet in a flurry of blue hair and gray folds.

"That was just obscene!" she hissed at the toilet, as if she could verbally chastise it for its behavior.

She glanced at Vegeta, noticing his shoulders were shaking again. She was almost certain he was laughing this time, but when he turned around a moment later his face was completely impassive.

More than a little miffed, Bulma flounced back over to the cot. And proceeded to do absolutely nothing. All day and night in a tiny cell with no TV or books. Absolutely nothing to do. No problems to solve. Now she understood why they called it torture. She sighed heavily, laying back.

"Good grief. What are we supposed to do all day?" she muttered, not really expecting a response from her stoic cell mate.

"Exercise."

She turned her head, stunned as Vegeta move into the steps of a beautiful kata. His muscles rippled hypnotically beneath his toffee skin, and soon he gleamed with sweat. She rolled over, tucking her hands beneath her cheek to watch, fascinated with every move he made.

"By all means, exercise," she whispered to herself while thinking maybe torture wasn't so bad after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Free My Heart

"If you don't get off your fat ass and do something, your body will deteriorate."

"Fat!" Bulma screeched, sitting upright so fast that her blanket tumbled into her lap. She scurried to cover her breasts, heat suffusing her cheeks. "I thought you said I was scrawny?"

Vegeta peered at her from beneath his dark brows as he did another push-up. He had caught her slip and he was relieved to be facing the ground. Her breasts really were magnificent. Her pale alabaster skin glowed under the harsh light, making her almost ethereal. Her nipples were hard and red, the sensitive naked skin abraded by the rough wool of the blanket.

It had been a long time since he had a woman. He was by no means a eunuch as his peers believed. He just preferred his women to be of a different class. It was typical of him to explore new worlds for hours even days before he was supposed to purge them. He would prowl through their unsuspecting back alleys and visit their gathering spots. It wasn't hard for him to find a willing woman to take him home for the night. Pure lust, unsullied by fear or greed. They neither knew who he was nor did he pay them for their time. They just wanted him for him, nothing more. In the end, he killed them of course. He killed their entire planet. But for a few hours it would just be them, skin, sweat and raw sex.

He squeezed his eyes shut and did another rapid series of push-ups before he got his body back under control. He needed to stop having such thoughts if he was going to get through this next trial with his dignity intact. No matter what, he could not give Zarbon and Jeice the satisfaction of knowing he lusted after the woman they incarcerated him with. It would give them the upper-hand they needed in their long standing struggle for dominance.

More importantly, he would _not_ give into his desire to spread her legs wide and fuck her until she screamed his name loud enough for the entire ship to hear. What he needed to do was remind himself how ugly she was.

"I can see your ass spreading from here, woman."

"Oooh," she hissed and shot up from her seat, whipping the tail of her blanket behind her like it was a train to an elegant dress. He imagined she looked stunning in opulent settings. She would shine in a ballroom or in a throne room. She was meant to be the wife of a king. Too bad he would never be one.

She paced the room, her eyes spitting fire at him every time she passed. At least now she was moving. She had been nearly motionless on the cot for two days, only getting up to use the facilities. Of course, her mouth kept moving the entire time. He didn't think it was possible for anyone to have so much to say. However, the last few hours she had fallen eerily silent. Her eyes darkened, and her skin seemed paler. He knew, just by looking, her spirit was cracking.

Too many times he had watched prisoners sink into despondency just from lack of exercise. Physical activity kept the blood moving, and that kept the heart beating strong. More importantly it kept vengeance at the forefront of one's mind, which was the real tactic to surviving in the dungeons of Frieza's ship. You had to live for the day you would exact your vengeance or it would be too easy to fade away and die.

She stopped outside his vision, but he could hear the blanket rustling around. He was fairly certain the woman couldn't hurt him, but he disliked not being able to see where she was. A lifetime of waiting for an attack had taught him to never turn his back on anyone, no matter how weak they may seem.

He sprang up, shaking his arms to relieve the burn in his muscles. Although he never admitted it, working-out while his ki was sapped was always the most rewarding. The strength and stamina of his muscles without being ki-infused was a testament to how truly powerful he was.

Without giving away his purpose, he shifted his weight so he could see her from the corner of his eye. She rearranged the blanket so it was tightly wrapped around her body toga style. Her eyes were closed and she was humming . She bent her knees, her feet pointed outwards. Her pitched increased and she bounced up on her feet several times, before coming to rest on the tips of her toes.

He scanned her bare legs, beneath the fall of her blanket, all the way down to her toes. His brow winged, the only acknowledgement to her accomplishment.

Her humming dipped and swelled, some foreign lullaby which threaded through his soul. Bulma stepped out, arms above her head and whirled around him. She dipped with the music, swayed with it, leaping through the air. Her blue hair floated around her, sliding across her back, and caressing her bare collar bone. Her eyes were closed, her face a picture of pure contentment as she circled around him in a graceful dance he had never seen before.

The folds of the hideous blanket flared and Vegeta was struck with the insane urge to reach out and grab the corner. One little tug and she would be twirling around him naked, all white skin and blue hair. As beautiful as a snowflake in the wind.

Barefoot on a metal floor took its toll and she lost her balance in the middle of a pirouette, colliding with him forcefully. He instinctively reached out to steady her, gripping her elbows. Her hands came to rest on his chest, petal light and just as soft. Her sapphire eyes snapped open, stunning him at their sheer intensity of color. He had never seen eyes like hers before. They were jewel-bright and endlessly deep. He pink lips parted with breathlessness, and he could see a flush staining her unmarred cheek.

"Swan Lake," she whispered up at him as if he should know. He said nothing, but he didn't let her go either.

"Yamcha tried to teach me to fight, but I could never remember the katas. Yet I know ever step to Swan Lake. I think it's the music. There's no tone to fighting. No rhythm. But when I hear the ballet it vibrates through every cell in my body." She tilted her head to the side, listening to the echo of notes in the air.

Vegeta swept his gaze over her face, peering into her, looking for answers to the myriad of questions her very presence posed to him. She was so different from anyone he had ever encountered in his entire life time.

"There's a rhythm to fighting. It's blood and violence. It throbs in the air, pounding louder and louder until it's the only thing you can hear."

Bulma pursed her lips, her brows narrowing.

"The only thing _you_ can hear, you mean."

"What difference does it make?"

She shrugged, and the blanket slipped, revealing more of her skin. "None at all, I suppose."

The disappointment in her voice made him frown. Her eyes dropped to stare at her hands on his chest. They were so pale contrasted against his tan skin.

"The Saiyans have a dance."

"They do?" He was rewarded for his tidbit of information by her eyes shooting back up to his.

"Yes, but isn't nearly as delicate."

"How so?"

His smile was a slow stretch of his full lips that made her belly quiver deep down.

"It's about submission and dominance," he purred.

Bulma could feel the air heat up between them. Her breathing becoming shallow and no matter how many times she inhaled she couldn't seem to get enough air. Her fingers unconsciously curled across his chest, her nails scraping over his hardened nipples.

"Of course. Saiyan males probably have all sorts of rituals to keep their females in line," she tried to sound contemptuous, but it was hard when her voice was breathy and light.

His smile deepened, becoming darker instead of brighter--more predatory. There was no way he was going to tell her the Saiyan mating dance was all about the females _allowing_ their chosen males to dominate over them.

The grating sound of the door latch being thrown startled them. They jumped apart, Vegeta shifting his weight so his shoulder was shielding her. Taking his unspoken cue she backed up, placing herself fully behind him.

The door opened up to reveal Zarbon, dressed in a green and cream silk suit, leaning on a silver cane. Cuddled up beside him, grinning hugely was Jeice, dressed in soft pants and a very thin white shirt.

"Bath time, dovies!" Jeice caroled in a sing-song voice. But his smile was soon turned upside down when he noticed Bulma wrapped in the room's only blanket.

"Oh well that just won't do at all," he cooed, and Zarbon smirked wickedly in response.

Bulma felt something sick flutter in the base of her belly. Zarbon looked down at his lover, smiling fondly at him. He kissed the tip of Jeice's nose, gathering him closer to his side.

"You're right of course, my pretty," Zarbon purred.

Faster than Bulma could follow with her eyes, Zarbon lashed out at Vegeta. The tip of the sliver cane he was holding struck Vegeta in the center of his chest. Vegeta fell to his knees, convulsing violently. Bulma reached for him, but pulled away at the last moment when she realized it was electricity pulsating through his body.

Zarbon withdrew the cane and Vegeta fell back on his side clutching his chest. Bulma knelt behind him, her soft hands coming to rest on his neck and shoulder as she checked his pulse. He was alive, and from the way his jaw clenched he was still conscious, just momentarily paralyzed.

"Poor Vegeta. How helpless you must feel. All that pride. All that supposed power from your royal ancestors, and yet you are nothing more than a mongrel waiting to be kicked. You're shit Frieza's heel Vegeta, and I can't wait for the day he finally scrapes you off."

Bulma was looking down at Vegeta while Zarbon spoke, so she didn't see Jeice come up behind her. He roughly pulled the blanket away, laughing cruelly as she cowered behind Vegeta, trying to cover herself with her hands. He grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms at her sides so her entire naked front was visible to his lover.

"You are such a lovely little thing. It would have been fun to play with you, but we'd never touch Vegeta's scraps. Might get a monkey disease or something," Jeice whispered in her ear. She went soft in the knees, relief flooding through her. He all but assured her that neither he nor Zarbon would rape her. She closed her eyes, sagging against his chest.

"That is of course, _if_ Vegeta takes you. We are watching, you know."

Bulma went live-wire taut in his arms. With horror-struck eyes she watched as Zarbon latched the tip of his cane into the front of Vegeta's collar locking it into place like a leash. She was still cold with stunned terror as Zarbon dragged Vegeta off the floor and out the door. They disappeared around the corner, leaving her along in Jeice's embrace.

"You didn't really think you were safe did you? One way or another you'll be getting fucked down here. And when you're done, its down the slave quarters with you, where you will spend every day for the rest of your live, spreading those sweet little thighs for any man who wants you."

His hand slipped between her legs, his obscenely long fingers covering her mound and creeping towards her entrance. "Maybe I should just do it now, before Vegeta gets a taste. That way we both can be happy."

The gut-sickening sensation of his hands on her body, and his sweet breath on her neck sent Bulma into a frantic rage. Without thought of consequences she reared back with all her strength, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Get off me! I hate you. I'll kill you!"

She slammed her head into his nose, and kicked her heals into his shins. She fought against his hold with all the fury of her soul, but in the end it was insubstantial against his strength. He laughed mockingly in her ear, but at least his hand was gone, now wrapped around her waist to keep her still. She flung her hair out of her face, her eyes colliding with Vegeta's.

He and Zarbon were standing in the doorway. Zarbon was snickering, but Bulma couldn't comprehend expression on Vegeta's face. It was cold and removed, but behind his black eyes she thought she could see fire.

"Come now, my pretty. You know how I hate it when you play without me," Zarbon sulked at Jeice.

"You're right of course, my darling. I just couldn't help myself. She's just so fresh. I love it when they are unbroken."

"Of that we are in complete agreement, but this was your little plan. If you want to play a different game then you need to let me know."

"No, no. This game is perfect. Lets us finish. These dirty little slaves need to have their bath."

"Indeed," Zarbon purred and pulled Vegeta away. To Bulma's relief they followed closely after them. They took a short walk down the hall before being pushed into a room no bigger than the cell they had just been in. The only difference was instead of a flat steel floor it was nothing more than grating. The welded edges tore at the bottoms of Bulma's soft soles as she very carefully made her way into the room.

She turned around to face the door, watching as Zarbon and Jeice slid open some wall panels to reveal a fat, yellow hose. Zarbon pulled it off the rack, taking a few steps closer to them.

"Ready?" he asked with a huge grin.

Bulma swallowed hard, having watched enough movies to know what she was in for.

Zarbon's grin widened when they didn't answer and he motioned to Jeice over his shoulder to turn on the water. Chuckling happily, Jeice spun the orange knob.

Bulma watched as the hose bloated just before the water blasted out of the nozzle. The stream of freezing cold water hit her with such velocity it knocked the air out of her lungs as she was slammed up against the back wall.

She screamed in pain. The water pelted her body until her skin felt like it was going to split apart and sluice right off her brittle bones. She twisting around on the wall, trying to escape the blast, but if followed her mercilessly, like icy knives trying to slash furrows in her tender flesh. She cried out, begging them to stop, but through flood of water she could only hear laughing.

Suddenly the onslaught was interrupted. She crouched down, naked, feeling almost animal like. She peered over her shoulder, afraid of what she would see. Vegeta stood in front of her, anchored to floor by sheer force of will as he took the blast full force in the chest.

"Ah, isn't that sweet, Zarbon? I think he loves her."

Zarbon laughed and twisted the nozzle to increase the pressure. "You're right, he must love her."

Vegeta just squared his stance, refusing to look behind him. He knew how intense the water pressure from the hose could be. He had experienced 'bath time' many times before. But when he saw how it launched Bulma up against the wall he was shocked. The way she pirouetted through the air reminded him of her dance, but without the grace or the beauty, just terror.

His first instinct had been to race up to Zarbon and wrench the hose from his hands then beat him bloody with it. Never in his entire life had Vegeta ever had such a reaction in response to seeing someone hurt. It was her screams that really did it. They pierced his skull, drilling down through his teeth and striking in the chest. He had to make the screaming stop.

Knowing he was powerless to stop the torture, he did the only thing he could do, protect her from it. It made him sick to do it. The looks of sheer surprise and delight on Zarbon's and Jeice's faces were infuriating, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. All he had to do was take one step to the side, and the blast would strike her again, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't stand to hear her screams. He couldn't stand to see her pain.

His life and meager reputation of pride he created was over. They would stop at nothing now to torment him endlessly. Even if she died down here, they would never let him forget his momentary weakness for her. He might as well slit his own throat.

Something cold and wet pressed against his spine. He could feel each pad of her fingertips fanned out across his back. Her hand, that was all. She didn't press her body up against his seeking to steal his warmth. She didn't cower against him for strength. Instead, she was simply pressing her hand against him to reassure him and herself, they were alright. They would survive this. He felt something warm pierce his core, and inside a fragile seed of golden strength grew.

"Stay behind me," he growled, and he could feel her fingertips curl in response.

"Yes, Vegeta." He could hear the coldness and fear in her voice, and he widened his stance, glaring down his enemies. With one look he succulently conveyed his contempt for them. There was nothing they could do to him that hadn't already been done. Their little games were old and trite.

Zarbon smirked in response, knowing for now, their game was over. Their desired result had been achieved, and when the slaves returned to the cell, their game would be accelerated even more by the elements.

Jeice turned off the water, and Zarbon wound the hose up. Once done, Jeice skipped happily past Vegeta to gather Bulma up in his arms, unmindful of how wet she was. He was so warm, almost hot to the touch. She wanted to lean into him, to bask in his heat, but pride and disgust stopped her. She would rather have her fingers and toes rot off with hypothermia then let even a fraction of his heat warm her. She would die before letting him touch her.

A deep growl rippled through the room, so low it was barely audible, seemingly involuntary. It carried with it an undercurrent of meaning that Bulma was in no condition to interpret. She glanced up, while straining away from her captor. Vegeta still had his back to her, his spine rigid, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Before him Zarbon stood, a perfect grin gracing his perfect lips. He twirled the flashing silver cane in his fingers, the fluorescents reflecting across the slender length hypnotically. She blinked as it blinded her, and she looked away.

"You know, Vegeta, with the collar on if I zap you with The Stick while wet it may very well kill you. You're not going to make me do that, are you? Surely the little female isn't worth dying for."

Vegeta scowled at Zarbon through lowered brows. Hate and fury warred in his blood, pulsing through his veins. Desperately, he wished to be rid of the collar harnessing his power. He wanted nothing more than to murder everyone in the room. Even the woman. Especially the woman. She unwittingly exposed his weakness to his enemies. The unfathomable need to protect her. The need to have her.

He twitched his head to the side, using his peripherals to look behind him. The woman's eyes were downcast, her body straining away from her captor. He could see she was freezing. Her entire body was shaking, and he could hear the clacking of her teeth from where he stood, yet she refused an easy source of heat from her enemy. Just like she refused to try and steal his unoffered warmth earlier. Pride stopped her. Pride made her strong even when she was abdominally weak.

Vegeta's frown darkened. He hated the woman, but he couldn't help, but to be impressed with her inner strength. A part of him wanted her dead, so she could no longer impose herself onto his already chaotic life, but just the thought of her lifeless at his feet made him want to rage and tear at the world until it stood in bloody tatters. He couldn't bring himself to understand the situation he found himself in. He had no experience, no markers for how he should behave. With no battle strategy, his only logical action was retreat.

He shrugged at Zarbon who chuckled warmly before leading him from the room, back to his cell. Bulma watched them leave with huge, sad eyes. Jeice nipped at her ear, and she flinched away in disgust. He snickered at her reaction, his breath feathering over her wet skin. She shivered, closing her eyes as the pain of loneliness and abandonment ripped through her chest.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered frailly, suddenly so tired she could barely find the strength to stand.

"You? This has nothing to do with you, my little pretty. You are just a pawn in our never-ending game with Vegeta. We torment him, he undercuts us to Lord Frieza. We take something of his he values, and he empties one our secret accounts. It's a beautiful dance we've perfected over years."

Bulma lifted her face to the ceiling, her eyes closed to pray silently. On the backs of her lids she could see starbursts of colors and she was reminded of the summer days she used to spend with Goku when she was a girl. She knew now she was in hell. Her only relief was the knowledge she was going to die soon. She knew in her heart there was no way she was going to survive, naked and wet in the cold metal cell Jeice was going to throw her in.

"I would really like pass the joyous position of 'Pawn in Maniacal Mind-Games' to someone else, please," she murmured hopelessly.

"Sorry, only you will do. You saw how he protected you just now. In all our years we've never witnessed Vegeta do such a thing. I bet he's ripping himself a new one right now. Freaking fantastic. Taking you from him will be piece de' resistance." Jeice nuzzled her lengthened neck, just beneath her ear, before purring the last to her. "But first, we will have to see if Vegeta will save you or let you freeze to death."

Head still lolled back, Bulma opened her eyes. The white fluorescents stabbed at her eyes, but she didn't blink. She just stared into the whiteness, wondering if heaven would be so blinding.


	5. Chapter 5

WARNING: Rated for Vegeta's crudeness and just overall surly behavior. IE: Language and sex talk.

Free My Heart

Bulma was shivering so hard from the intense cold her bones felt like they were coming apart. The water had been freezing, and she was drenched from head to toe. Jeice led her back to the cell, pushing her inside with carelessness. She glanced around for the blanket, but unsurprisingly it was missing. All that was left was the stripped down cot in the corner of the very cold, metallic room.

She gathered up her long hair, wringing it out the best she could. Water splashed on the metal floor, sounding like tinkling chimes in the wind. She knew that she had to get as dry as possible or hypothermia was going to set in. She slid her hands over her arms and legs wiping away moisture as she made her way to the cot. Her teeth chattered together, and no matter how much she clenched her jaw she couldn't get them to stop. She curled up on the mattress in a tight ball, wrapping her arms around her knees, trying to keep as much warmth in her core as possible.

Vegeta watched the woman's jerky movements. He could tell she was well on her way to freezing. Although he was just as drenched as she, his naturally high body temperature burned off the excess water quickly, keeping him comfortably warm. From the looks of the bluing skin around her lips, and the way she was sporadically shaking, humans didn't have the same abilities as Saiyans.

He turned away so he didn't have to see. His behavior in the bath disgusted him. Never in his life had he ever put himself in harm's way to protect another. Granted stepping in front of the spray was of little consequence to him, though it may have saved her life. If the first blast of water to her chest hadn't broken her ribs, a sustained burst may have.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Even now he could see the area around her ribs darkening as blood pooled beneath the skin. If she didn't get warm soon, she would die. And if she died now, what would have been the point of saving her in the first place?

Her teeth were chattering, but beneath it, he could hear her muttering something repeatedly. Again with the noise. The woman was never silent even when she was dying. He suspected she would even rot loudly.

"What did you say?"

He refused to look at her as he spoke. He glared angrily at the far wall, his arms crossed defensively.

"P-prime n-numbers," she stammered. Her words were barely audible, prompting Vegeta to turn and face her.

"What?"

"I-I'm r-reciting prime numbers. S-s-so I won't be s-so c-cold. 'C-cept I c-can't s-seem to remember…" Her words trailed away, her eyes growing distant. He frowned down at her, his black eyes coldly assessing. She was curled up so tight he was surprised her entire body didn't seize. Even if he tried to get her up to move around, she wouldn't be able to regain the necessary body heat in time.

He stepped closer, looking into her darkening eyes. She stared back, unseeing. Swiftly he made a decision, and once committed there could be no sway in his course. It was one of his traits that made him such a ruthless leader.

Wordlessly, he lifted her up and settled himself so he was on the cot, his back braced against the wall. He laid Bulma on his chest, her lower body between his lifted knees and wrapped his strong arms around her back. Bulma started to protest, but once she felt his burning hot skin against hers, all she could do was gasp in relief. She wound her arms around him, and curled her knees up so they were flush to the backs of his thighs.

She buried her face into his chest and breathed in everything that was Vegeta. He didn't smell like any other man she ever met. She smelled chlorine from the water, but beneath it there were scents of heat and blood. Sex and violence. Hunger and need. And beneath all that, even deeper was the throbbing pulse of power. It made her mouth water, and her eyes tear. She rubbed her face across his chest, rubbing her nose against him like a contented cat, drinking him in, savoring every nuance.

Vegeta stilled beneath her touch. The way she stretched against him was almost animalistic. She was scenting him, indulging in him, coating herself in him. Whether she realized it or not, she was marking herself as his.

He thrust her back, his strong finger banded around her forearms. Bulma's drowsy eyes met his hard calculating ones. Her skin was beginning to flush with heat, but by the vacancy in her eyes, he doubted she was fully aware of her surroundings. Her actions weren't that of a comprehending woman, they had been instinctual.

She frowned at him, whimpering at the lost of his heat. His eyes narrowed, but she didn't respond to the proposed threat. He snorted in disdain, satisfied that she wasn't trying to seduce him. He settled her back on his chest, relieved when she merely found a comfortable niche and remained still.

However, her movements had done more than just arouse his irritation. His body was generating even more heat than usual. Partly in response to her cold body now blanketing him, but mostly because he wanted nothing more than to accept her invitation and spread her legs to fuck her at his leisure.

He shifted his hand between them so he could cover his erection with his palm. He was hard, his tip already weeping with want. He created a gap between their bodies, and curled his tail between them to hide his embarrassment. It wouldn't be long until she regained her senses, and his hard cock was bound to catch her notice.

He tilted his head back against the wall, staring at the bright lights until he saw spots. Slowly he counted his breaths, willing his body to come back under his control.

"Tell me something."

Her soft breath feathering over his chest brought him back to the present more than her words. He closed his eyes against the light, his head still tilted back.

"Tell you what?" he questioned sourly. He would have been more forceful, but he was afraid of getting even partially worked up. At least now her teeth weren't chattering and she could speak in clear sentences. Her flesh still felt cool to the touch though, and her wet hair was an icy mass trailing across his ribs.

"A story. Anything to get my mind off how cold I am. Tell me about you."

"Keh. My life is no bed time tale; it's more of a horror story if anything."

"Even better. I used to love telling ghost stories, and horror movies rock! Better than some lying chic flick. True love, my ass."

He sighed heavily, and she curled around his chest in response. Her small kittenish nails trailed along his ribs before coming to rest beside his spine again.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," he replied hollowly, still hiding behind closed eyes.

She smiled and he could feel her lips caress his skin.

"When we get out of here, I'll show the wonders of my kick-ass, awesome DVD collection. Better yet, I'll take you to the theater."

Her words cut off with a painful gasp, and Vegeta knew she was remembering that there was no more DVD collection or theater. He shifted his hand down her back, telling himself it was more about warming her exposed skin than it was to comfort.

"I'm going to die down here, aren't I, Vegeta?" Her words were barely a whisper of air across his skin, but they rang loudly in his ears. He shrugged in response, not wishing to answer. He had spent many times down here in the dungeon, and he had always lived to see the next day. But he was strong. He always persevered. He was a warrior first and a prince second. He would never allow himself to die as a prisoner.

"And if I don't then I'll just end up the ship's whore."

Vegeta's upper lip curled, seeing Jeice with his hand between her legs in his mind's eye. He had so much anger inside him, boiling over at the edges, just waiting to burst through. It was hard for him to imagine being able to harbor anymore inside his soul, but when he saw her--the fear in her flashing blue eyes, how tiny she was compared to Jeice, something inside him roared to be free. He saw blood for just a moment, and he knew he was lost. The moment he felt anything but disdain for another living person would be the moment heralding his downfall.

"You don't say a lot, Vegeta."

"What would you have me say? Should I tell you lies, spin fairy tales out of air?" he snapped at her. She hunched her shoulders, her face sliding down so her cheek was pressed against his sternum. Her soft breasts were pillowed against his rigid stomach, and he could feel her nipples harden. He bit his inner cheeks, keeping his face tilted away.

"Just tell me a story."

"I have no stories. Just truths. I was stolen from my home. Forced into slavery. I serve a master I hate. And the only thing that gives me joy is when I spill another's blood. I was born in hellfire and I live to spread it across the universe. Because at least if the universe is burning then no one will notice how my soul is burning up with it."

The last part slipped out without Vegeta's consent, and his arms tightened around her in anger. He crushed the air from her lungs, but she didn't try to squirm away. She remained as still as possible, playing possum to his wolf. Her chest burned, and silent tears slipped out the corners of her eyes, dripping onto his chest. They burned like acid, forcing him to loosen his grip. She inhaled swiftly, her nails curling and relaxing with her breath.

"You know what I like about you, Vegeta?"

Vegeta slowed his breathing, trying to regain his calm. Unconsciously, he matched his breaths to the curling of her fingers.

"This should be rich," he muttered, wondering if he was dead and this really was hell.

"You tell the truth. Unlike most people who lie and cheat to get their way, you just boldly tell the right of it. Even your face tells the truth if you don't actually speak the words."

"Is that so? You can get all that from my face? There's quite a few people out there who would beg to differ."

"That's probably because they don't look you in the eye. If you look beyond all that darkness you can see."

"What? Emptiness?"

"Fire." _Hellfire_ was left unsaid between them. Time lapsed, and Bulma's hair began to dry. Vegeta combed his fingers through the stands, silently marveling at how silky it was.

"If I tell you my deepest, darkest secret, do you promise not to tell?"

Vegeta snorted, his fingers working through a tangle. She stretched against him, relishing his heat and touch.

"You told me yours, it seems only fitting I tell you mine."

"What makes you think that was a secret?" He scented her hair, concentrating on anything except her words--her understanding of him. He dropped the tangle he held, pressing himself against the wall. He couldn't get away; she was poured over him like a second skin.

She shrugged and some of her hair slid off the smooth expanse of her back to tickle his ribs. A few days locked in a cell with him and she was already presuming to know him. He had even been inside her yet.

_Yet_

But he would be. He promised himself. Zarbon's and Jeice's games aside. The woman so casually lounging atop of him was going to find out what it was like to be prey. His prey. No one who dug around so intimately in his mind would ever get away with it. In fact, she was warm now. He should be dumping her on the floor, like the trash she was.

_Yet_.

Yet, he couldn't seem to find the strength to move. He was drugged by her presence, by the heat between them. Her soft voice and innate flowery scent was hypnotizing him. She spoke, and he strained to hear. She moved, and his muscles rippled in response. She curled her fingers, and he breathed.

"Do you want to hear my secret or not." She pouted against his chest, and it felt like a kiss. Beneath her words he could hear pain, and he wondered if he really wanted to hear what she had to say. What were the chances he would ever come across someone in this universe who was unbroken? He didn't reply and she took it as assent.

"When I was sixteen I ran away from home. Well, truly, I ran away from the university where I was working on my second PH.D."

Vegeta dipped his chin to glare down at the crown of her head. He could see the white line of her scalp, and her aqua blue hair spilling down around her shoulders and his ribs in a riot of curls. Her face was hidden beneath it all, but he could feel her speak against him.

"That's your big dark secret? The princess ran away from home? Well fuck, no wonder you're neurotic," Vegeta sneered with sarcasm so thick it practically dripped on her.

Bulma bit him.

Right on the rib.

Vegeta went ramrod straight and it was all he could do not to leap up, flip her around, and impale her with his hard cock right then and there.

"Shit! Fuck! Knock it off, woman."

"That's not my secret. Stop being mean."

"Fucking gods! Do you know who I am? I'm the fucking incarnate of evil. As a matter of fact, I'm done with this heart-to-heart, pink fluffy moment crap. Get the fuck off me."

"No!" She climbed up, straddling his thighs and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I don't think you really want me to go."

In her new position, there was no mistaking Vegeta hard, thick cock nestling tightly against her wetness. His tail was crushed between them, and he had to yank it away to prevent it from being injured. Her face was buried beneath his chin, and he could feel her hot, panting breath feather over his throat.

Anger boiled in his veins, because she was right. He didn't want her to go. He wanted to lift her up and slide every inch of himself into her. He wanted her so bad it made his teeth ache and his chest tight.

Instead, he threaded his fingers through her hair, cradling the back of her skull with his palm. He tightened his fingers into a fist, and ruthlessly pulled her away from his chest until she was sitting upright, her head wrenched back. For the first time he got a truly clear view of her breasts that wasn't tainted by another man's hand. They thrust forward, red, hard nipples cresting plump, white flesh. They were just round enough to fit in his hand perfectly without overflowing. A dark bruise was spreading across her ribs and down her belly, matching the one on her cheek, and he frowned. Her long torso nipped in at the waist, her hips flaring out dramatically, making a perfect nest for her thatch of blue hair between her thighs. She really was beautiful in a way that Vegeta hadn't seen in a long while.

"Well if Jeice is right, then the sooner I fuck you, the sooner you'll be taken out of here to the whore quarters. Shit, maybe they will even let me out of here. At the very least I won't have to put up with your whining anymore, and all I have to do is ride you on my cock."

Her eyes were closed against the pain, and her full lower lip quivered. He just knew she was going to start crying again. All the woman did was cry. _Fan-fucking-tastic_.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean too. I'm just scared and frustrated. I don't know what to do. I'm lonely, and I thought for a moment I could make friends with you."

"I'm not the friendly type." Disgusted, he tossed her to the side, trying not to wince when she tumbled off him to land on the floor beside the cot. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, ignoring the spreading cold that centered in his heart and wrapped around his ribs.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z

A/N: Surprisingly, I have agonized over this story far more than any of my others. Vegeta is turning out to be absolutely loquacious. I've fretted terribly over this, until I finally decided I have to write the story as it is unfolding in my head. If I did it any other way, I would make myself very unhappy. I have tried my hardest to be true to my Saiyan prince, so please any feedback you have would be greatly appreciated.

Kinky-typo has been so kind as to create some fanart for this story. You can find her gorgeous artwork on deviant art. I would include a link, but you know how fussy is about web links.

Free My Heart

Bulma sat with her back to Vegeta, her legs drawn to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her shins to keep warm, laying her cheek on her knees. She tried not to shiver, but it was hard, because the all-metal floor was cold, and she had just barely regained her body heat.

Vegeta slouched down on the bed, his arm flung over his eyes. He was tired, and giving serious thought to falling asleep. His cock still ached, its hard length laying against his lower belly, but he ignored it the best he could. Since kicking the woman off the bed he was inexplicably cold. As if something deep inside him was freezing solid with every laborious breath he took. After awhile, he could feel the woman fiddling with something beneath the cot, but the last thing he wanted to do was look at her. He heard the ting sound of metal breaking, followed by steady strokes of steal being slid over steal repeatedly.

"I'm a genius, you know."

"Yep, hell," he muttered, uncaring if she heard him. The woman couldn't even be quiet for five minutes.

"I can probably disable the collar around your neck."

Vegeta shot up so fast his feet hit the floor beside her with a resounding slam. Bulma flinched back, looking up at him with wide eyes. In her hand she held a thin wire she had broken off from the framework of the cot, the tip sharpened to a point from scraping it against the floor. He glared at her, his eyes narrowing.

"Define genius."

"Weren't you listening to my story? Second PH.D by the time I was sixteen. I have so many diplomas I could wipe my ass for a year."

"That means nothing to me, little human. What makes you think you know anything about alien technology?"

"It's the red lights. They're saying something to me. It's a sequence. It has to be. If I could just get a look at the circuitry I know I can disable it."

He leaned forward, wrapping his hand around her throat. His fingers brushed her hair, and he could feel her blood pulsing beneath her soft skin. She was so soft, so tiny. The slightest twitch of his hand could kill her. He pulled her off the floor until she was kneeling before him, their eyes even. It took all of his willpower not to drop his gaze to scan down her luscious body. It took even an even greater effort not to pull her up onto his lap.

"And if you fail, we both explode."

She swallowed, and her throat bobbed beneath his palm.

"It's rigged with explosives?" she asked softly, her eyes so wide they looked like pools of crystal water. He stared deep into them, seeing a reflection of cold dark eyes and a grim mouth. He was terrifying to look at, but she wasn't afraid. He could feel it in the thrumming of her steady her pulse.

"Of course. If it wasn't do you think I would still be sitting here?"

They sat silently as she considered the problem. Finally she spoke, her pink lips delicately forming her words.

"I don't want to go to the whore quarters," she stated determinedly.

"Well, I don't want to die," Vegeta replied with equal determination.

Her pink lips curled down, and Vegeta couldn't help but to watch them. He wondered what she looked like when she really smiled. Not a false one meant to cajole or connive her way, like when she gave him her food. But an honestly genuine smile. He would probably never know. He had never seen anything in life worth smiling about, and from here on out, she wouldn't either.

"Why? What exactly is it you've been living for?"

Vegeta's grip tightened. She clawed at his hand, her fingernails scratching at the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. He watched her struggle through distant eyes, replying her words in his head. _What exactly was he living for? A chance? An opportunity to kill Frieza? _Or maybe he just was waiting for the day he died.

He released her, and she fell back on her heels gasping for breath.

"Sorry," she muttered rubbing her abused neck. She did feel bad for saying such a thoughtlessly mean thing to him, but it didn't give him the right to manhandle her. She was angry at him, but not afraid. Even as he had held her tightly in his grip, she knew, deep down, he wouldn't hurt her. It had been a reaction, honed by years of living under such hostile conditions. The instinct to prove himself as the most dominate in the room. She chaffed under such arrogant aggressiveness, but she couldn't fault him for it either. He lived in a world were only the most dangerous predators survived, and the weak rotted by the wayside.

She refused to look at him, making Vegeta frown. "There will be a warning before it detonates. Move to the far side of the room as quickly as you can. You will be outside the blast radius."

Bulma had to lock her neck in place so she didn't gape up at him in shock. His actions in the shower showed a certain amount of consideration for her. But words were not actions. For a man like Vegeta, words were the hardest way to convey emotion of any kind. Especially, anything remotely in the arena of caring.

She covered his hand with hers, but he quickly shook her off, annoyed. Ignoring her, he stared at the floor in the distance. He didn't move as she stood up, nor did he flinch as she curled her body around behind him to get a better look at his collar. Her breasts were pressed up on either side of his spine, sliding against him with every breath she took. She kept one foot braced on the floor beside him, and her inner thigh brushed up against his leg intimately. She was so soft compared to him, so smooth.

She poured herself over him, melting across his back like candle wax. He was so warm, so hot to the touch, it was almost burning. Unable to help herself, she rubbed her face across his shoulders, nuzzling the back of his neck. He stiffened at her caress, growling low in his throat. She felt it vibrate through his back and she sighed as the sound tickled her skin. She smiled against his neck, leaning back a bare fraction so she could examine his collar.

She knew she should be guilty at how she felt when she touched him, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. She couldn't love him, it was possible she didn't even like him, but that didn't mean she couldn't be attracted to him. As gorgeous as he was, as intoxicating as he heat, it wasn't just his physically presence she found alluring. It was him. There was something glowing deep inside him. Something bright and beautiful. She wanted to be closer to it. She wanted to be closer to him.

Vegeta continued to stare at the floor, listening to her soft breathing, and the gentle clicks of the wire prying at the collar's panel. He tried not to notice how his core warmed up now they were touching, the freezing deep inside melting away to liquid heat.

The way she touched him made him long for something more than just sex. It was intangible, in the arc of heat between them. There was something about her, and only her, which made him drop his guard and forget about all his anger and hate. For the first time he wanted to close his eyes and be still. Be still under the press of her skin against his.

"I never got to tell you my secret."

"Great. Now that I'm your captive fucking audience."

She chuckled, and every nerve ending in his spine tingled in awareness. He had never heard such an intensely addictive sound. He wanted to hear the soft noise coming from her lips more than he wanted meat for dinner.

"My deep, dark secret, is the _reason_ I ran away from school."

Seeing there was no escape, Vegeta sighed and refocused his gaze on the floor. If talking made her calmer then so be it. She was going to need steady hands if she was going to be poking around in an explosive chip.

"You see, I fell in love."

Vegeta didn't respond, but his muscles stiffened. Bulma merely poured herself over him even more, leaning into him as she spoke.

"It wasn't true love of course. But it sure felt like it. At sixteen, everything feels so wonderful and new. He was an older boy. Everyone was older than me at the university. I always felt so out of place, awkward in my youth. Although I knew more than they could ever hope to know, everyone still treated me like a child, including the professors. I even had myself legally declared as an adult at fourteen. My parents helped. I thought it would make things easier, but it never did." He heard a slight bitterness in her tone when she spoke of her parents. He wondered about it, but he certainly wasn't going to ask. "He was different though. He was kind. Paid attention to me. Told me how special I was."

She paused, and if it wasn't for the quiver he felt in her stomach pressed against his lower back he would have never known she was remotely upset. She recited her story with vacant disinterest. Instinctively, he leaned back, pressing more of himself into her.

"Men say those things to women they want to fuck, no matter how special or plain they are. It's a great equalizer. They're not women, just the next lay."

"That's special, Vegeta. I feel warm and gooey inside," her voice dripped with honey, pricking the back of his neck with her false sincerity. He chuffed in discontent at her tone, not bothering to reply. "And what do you say when you want to get a woman in bed?"

"Wanna fuck?"

"That's it? No compliments or pretty lies?

"What's the point? Either they do or they don't. I don't have time to screw around." He was always pressed for time. He did nothing at his leisure. Even fucking was nothing more than a need being fulfilled. Everything he did had a purpose, a calculated outcome. Except when he was with her. She was an unexpected quandary. A flicker of light in his otherwise shadow-filled life. Vegeta was used to adapting to the terrible, side-stepping unexpected horrors, but she wasn't any of those things. She was a surprise in every sense of the word, including the way he responded to her.

She pressed her face into the back of his neck, below his collar and he could feel her lips on his skin.

"Just the truth and nothing but the truth, huh, Vegeta?"

Her warm breath ticked his hair, and he shrugged, dislodging her. Unperturbed, she went back to work, her touch light, but efficient.

"One night he invited me to a frat party. I was so excited. I never got invited to parties. I was too young to drink, and too intimidating to talk to. I got dressed up in my nicest dress, and did my hair, because really all I ever wanted was to be accepted. Maybe have a boyfriend. By the time we got there it was a real animal fest. Panties swinging from chandeliers, that sort of thing."

"Really? Frat party, huh," Vegeta asked with feigned interested that got him nudged. "Careful," he hissed, "you're gonna blow us both up."

"Pfft, as if. I have the steadiest hands on two continents."

"Whatever, just pay attention."

"Anyways," she drew out the word, rolling her eyes at him. "He was a real gentleman, bringing me drinks and all kinds of things. When he was off getting me another, I overheard one of his frat brothers talking about how he drugged my drinks so he could have sex with me. Maybe even let his brothers have a crack. He planned on getting me pregnant so he could cash in on some of my money. I'm very rich you know. Or I was," she ended softly.

"Money is just a means to an end." Vegeta never understood the allure of wealth. Thanks to Radditz's looting nature, he had more than enough money, and absolutely no use for it. It was better to live an austere life. If you valued nothing, then you could never lose anything.

"People kill for money on my planet. It's power and happiness."

"It's superficial. True wealth can never be taken from you. Like pride."

"Or love?" she asked quietly, her breath feathering over his ear.

"Fantasy," he dismissed scathingly. Bulma frowned at the side of his face. He glanced away, shielding his profile from her.

"Pride can be broken," she whispered softly, sliding her hand down his arm, enjoying the ripple of his muscles beneath her fingertips.

"Only if you let it." He shook her hand away, and she felt his rejection bone-deep. She wanted to comfort him somehow, but she wasn't sure why. It was her sad story she was retelling, yet she couldn't get over the feeling she had stumbled onto a fundamental part of Vegeta. Uncertain of what to say, she refocused on the collar, continuing her story.

"Since I was a consenting adult he figured it would be no problem talking me into getting married. I ran out the back and passed out in the garden. When I woke up my panties were still on so I assumed he never found me."

"And?"

"And, what?"

"That's your dark secret. You _almost_ got raped," he asked, irritated. She had rambled on uselessly for the last five minutes. She didn't effectively relay information, she fucking gabbed. _Endlessly._

"No." The single word was a growl, and Vegeta hardened. He shifted his arms closer to his body to hide his sudden arousal. Her body was attractive enough, but there was something about her voice, how she laughed, or when she cried, he responded to. He wanted her to shut-up, but he didn't.

"When he came around the next day to find out what happened to me I confronted him. He didn't admit it at first, but eventually he 'fessed up, and told me all about his big plans for the future." Her words choked to a stop, and the muscles around Vegeta's spine tightened. He thought about telling her to stop. He really didn't want to know her secrets—all the things making her sad. He didn't want to have this sick compulsion inside himself to make her feel better. He couldn't be this involved with her. He had plans for his future which had nothing to do with a woman. Deep down he already knew it was too late. Even if he could walk away now and never see her again, he wouldn't be able to completely untangle himself from her.

"My dark secret is that I considered it. He was sitting in my living room, looking so dejected and handsome at the same time. For a minute, I thought about having sex with him. Letting him get me pregnant. Marrying him. I was so alone. So sad, all the time. The thought of having someone love me, even if it was pretend was tempting. At least I would have someone, and if he gave me a baby I would never be alone."

"But you didn't." Though it was a statement it sounded more like a question.

"No, I didn't. Promise not to tell?" she sounded vulnerable, child-like. It occurred to him suddenly, he was the first person she had told of her secret. Her shame at needing something so fundamental as companionship--the need to feel connected to something or someone. He wanted to shrug her away, but he understood too intimately.

"No one to tell," he replied bluntly. Truthfully.

She was silent, and he knew she was considering the validity of his words. He felt her shrug in acceptance, and something in his chest loosened.

"So I ran off instead, determined to find real friends, and someone who would love me for who I was and not what I could give him."

"And did you find those things?"

Suddenly a high pitched whine echoed in the room, setting Vegeta's teeth on edge.

"Move!" he shouted, grabbing her thigh in a bruising grip to pull her around.

"Stop! I won't!" she shouted back with all the authority of a battlefield general. She felt terror so intense it almost froze her heart. It wasn't fear for herself, but for him. Fear he would die and she would be alone. Fear of him being gone.

She reared up on the bed, wrapping her leg under Vegeta's arm, and planting her foot squarely between his thighs, nearly smashing his vulnerable genitalia with her heel. She kept herself fully connected to him, locking her thighs around his torso as she worked to disarm the chip.

The beeping came rapidly, louder with every second. Vegeta closed his eyes, certain his head was going to be blown off along with hers. He kept his grip tight on her thigh, determined to throw her away from him at the last moment if she couldn't stop the detonation. He centered his entire being on the shrieking of his collar, listening for the right moment to toss her--waiting for the heartbeat between life and death.

Just as suddenly as the beeping began, it ended. The room echoed with the overwhelming silence, and not even their breathing could be heard. For a long moment they were both unflinchingly still, until Bulma exhaled loudly. She flopped backwards onto the cot, the heels of her hands pressed into her eyes. She straightened her leg across Vegeta's lap, taking big gulping breaths.

"I'm going to need better tools," she said softly, flinging the thin wire across the room.

The silence stretched between them, and Bulma just concentrated on breathing, thankful it was still within her capacity.

"When I was thirteen I almost committed suicide."

Bulma shifted to look at Vegeta. He was sitting in the same position, his hands resting on her shin.

"It wasn't intentional at first. I had just come back from another session with Freiza and I was so angry."

He swallowed, and Bulma watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. His profile was frozen, and she couldn't see his eyes. Only the tightening of his fingers on her leg told her he was disturbed.

"Session?"

He didn't reply, just kept staring in the distance.

"I put my fists through plate glass. I wasn't trying to hurt myself, just striking out. Thirteen is a hard age for a Saiyan. We have spikes in our power, and our hormones create imbalances in our ki. Due to my _situation, _I was prone to more outbursts than usual."

Bulma stared at his profile and tried to imagine what he looked like as a little boy. Still proud and arrogant, she bet. Probably a great deal less controlled. A wild-child, maybe. A free-spirit like her, but contained by the chains of slavery, while she had been imprisoned by parental expectation.

"My control was sporadic, and I failed to shield myself. The glass left deep slashes down the insides of my arms. There was blood everywhere. I just couldn't stop staring at all of it. It just kept coming, spilling out of me until my entire body was numb. I had never felt anything like it. All my rage and frustration just poured out of me with my blood. I knew what was happening. I knew if I didn't get help I would die, but I didn't care. I had nothing to live for. No family, no world, no people. Just slavery and humiliation."

Bulma placed her hand against his back, her fingertips brushing his ribs. He paused, swallowing again, as if he was trying to push the words back down inside them, but they just kept pouring out, like his blood had so long ago.

"Nappa found me. He was never far behind. He got me into a regeneration tank before I died. We never spoke of it, but afterwards I hated him. I hated him from saving me. I hated him for letting Frieza hurt me. I hated him for following me, though it was clear I was too weak to lead." His voice was rough and hard to listen too. The words sounded like they were fighting their way up his throat through a battleground of razor-wire.

He shifted, prompting her to move her leg. He lay down beside her, his back to her chest. She wrapped her arm around him, placing her hand over his heart.

"That's my dark secret."

"I'll never tell a soul, even in death," she whispered into his hair, curling her body around his to keep them warm.


	7. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: I do not own or profit from Dragon Ball Z.

A/N: Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews and support. I am so pleased you are all enjoying this story as much as I am. I have to admit, I did miss writing of my prince.

A/N: If it's a trite dramatic set up, I will write it. What can I say? I LOVE this sort of stuff. Give me a distressed damsel and a dark savior any day of the week, and I'll eat it up like chocolate!

Kinky-Typo has produced another beautiful piece of artwork for this story. You can find her work on deviantART. Please go check it out.

WARNING: Extreme Violence.

Free My Heart

Vegeta hardly ever slept. Saiyans could go for days at a time without closing their eyes. The longer they went without sleep, the more animalistic they became. It made them effective on the battlefield. They could fight in the blistering noon day sun without breaking a serious sweat, and continue until the moon invaded the night sky. Dirges were sung of their terrible glowing eyes and skin painted red with blood, of how they advanced on their enemies, decimating them with their incredible stamina and complete lack of needs. They were terrifying in their continuous onslaught. They didn't need food, drink or sleep. They thrived on battle. Lived it. Saiyans were war personified.

Vegeta watched as Bulma slept. Even in the dark, her pale ivory skin glowed. Her blue hair spilled around her face in a dark halo, gently caressing her cheeks. She moved restlessly on the cot. During the day she complained endlessly about how uncomfortable it was, but she never moved the pallet to the floor. Vegeta suspected she was afraid. Of what, he didn't know.

Sometimes she whimpered. Small, tiny sounds. Achingly, sad sounds. When she did, without volition, he would crouch down beside her, his dark eyes roving over her pained face. He knew she was dreaming. Remembering. He couldn't bear to touch her. He didn't dare. Not when she was so vulnerable, so open to the darkness. But he couldn't stop himself from breathing, from drawing in her scent, filing his lungs with it.

As soon as he neared, she would become still. As if she could feel the shadow he cast over her. At first he thought it was fearful instinct. Prey, hunkering down as it's stalker passed by. But every time he neared, she turned her face toward him, seeking him. Her brow cleared, and her breathing deepened as she scented him.

Vegeta never slept while imprisoned. Every second, every hour without sleep, he fell in sync with his primal side. The instinctual animal inside of him that recognized certain truths. Blood meant death. Death meant food. Food sustained mates. Mates meant life.

Vegeta withdrew from her, holding himself apart, desperate to retain his pride. Over and over he told himself the attraction he felt for the delicate woman was merely physical need, instinct to spread his seed. If he could just maintain distance he would defeat his enemies. If he stayed separate, then he would be able to leave her behind. Then he wouldn't _need_ her, _crave_ her, _desire_ her. As long as he didn't touch her, the heat wouldn't be able to invade his heart, thawing him out so he could feel again.

If he didn't speak, she would never know all his secrets.

Vegeta didn't talk to her for a full day. Apparently, he used up his entire quota of words for a month. He grunted when called for, but he barely looked at her, and he surely didn't volunteer anymore personal information. He just completely shut down. By the next afternoon, Bulma was fairly certain she was going insane. By nature she was a social butterfly. Even when she ran away from home, it hadn't taken her long to find a companion to share her time with. There was nothing more in life she hated than being alone. Except for maybe being alone while in the room with another person.

All the brooding silence between them just gave her time to think. Usually she could crowd her mind with equations and calculations, but things she had known since she was a baby slipped away from her. Every time she tried to concentrate, the only thing she could remember were her parents faces twisted in death or the acrid smell of her home burning.

She lay back in the cot, heels of her hands pressed into her eyes to stem the burning tears fighting to be free. She didn't want to cry anymore. She didn't want to see the look of disgust on Vegeta's face. In the end, all it got her were red eyes, and an empty soul.

The grating sound of the door latch being thrown intruded on her misery and a wave of relief washed over her. She was certain, what was about to happen was going to be horrible, but at least _something_ was about to happen.

When the door opened, she was surprised to see only Zarbon. She thought for sure Jeice panted after him like a bitch in heat wherever he went. Her sense of relief evaporated when she saw the heavy frown he was sporting. She sat up on the cot, curling her knees into her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. Vegeta, she noticed, didn't even bother to stand up. He just sneered from his corner, silently daring Zarbon to screw with him.

"I'm really disappointed in you two. You've been in here for days. I expected more." His warm amber eyes flickered over to Bulma. She was struck by how gorgeous he was. It made her wonder about the balance of the universe. If all things beautiful were evil, did that mean everything ugly was good?

"Maybe you just aren't Prince Vegeta's type. I would have definitely fucked you by now."

"Just goes to show how much integrity a prince has over a maggot such as yourself," Bulma responded coolly, her eyes chips of ice. Inside she was shaking, but she reminded herself that composure was everything in a world where evil stared you down on a daily basis.

Zarbon's sneer of disgust turned to vicious anger. Slowly, Vegeta pushed himself up the wall to stand in his corner. Bulma tightened her arms around her knees, but didn't drop her offending stare.

"Well I guess I'm going to have to introduce you to someone who has a little less integrity than your precious prince."

He disappeared from the door, and a hulking man replaced him. He was gigantic. Possibly, taller than Nappa. He looked human enough, but with yellowish skin and a shock of bright orange hair. He wore a too tight, too short light gray button down shirt and loose fitting pants. He had a collar like Vegeta's, with the same flickering lights. He grinned when he saw her, the curling corners of his mouth stretching back like a snake's.

He stepped into the room, and he seemed to tower over everything. Bulma could tell it wasn't skin covering him, but very short fur. She imagined it must feel like suede. His golden, tiger eyes scraped over her like she was meat ready to be devoured.

"This is, Thorn. Tell them your favorite pastime, Thorn."

Thorn's grin widened, and Bulma felt dread bubble up in her stomach. "Makin' women scream," the man purred, licking his lips in promise. Vegeta took a step off the wall, glaring murderously.

"Thorn here is going to be your new cellmate. I'm sure you'll make the effort to get along."

Zarbon laughed and slammed the door, leaving the three of them to stare at each other.

Very slowly, Throne reached behind him, gathering up the back of his shirt in his big fist. He pulled it over his head, throwing it into a crumpled heap in the corner. The entire time his predatory eyes pinned her to the spot unblinkingly.

The width of his chest was enormous, at least twice that of Vegeta's. He rippled with muscle under a fine layer of yellow fur. It was clear by the graceful way he moved and the bulk of his muscles he was a fighter. A warrior to the core, just like Vegeta.

"Did you want to go first?" he addressed Vegeta, never breaking his gaze away from her. His voice had a chummy looseness to it which made her skin crawl. It was very clear by his relaxed stance and his careless demeanor raping women was normal activity for him. And apparently, he wasn't above sharing.

"How generous of you."

Bulma ripped her eyes away from Thorn to stare at Vegeta. He was standing in the corner, loosely holding his arms at his sides. He wasn't looking at her. Instead he was staring very intently at their new cellmate, his black eyes hard as onyx. His calmness made her afraid. Very afraid.

She scooted back on the cot, wedging herself into the corner. For one very real moment, she wasn't sure if Vegeta was going to help her. The man standing in the middle of the room was a goliath. He topped Vegeta by at least three feet and with the collar on, Vegeta had only the strength of a man. Surely he hadn't the power to go up against such an adversary. Why would he? Why would he risk spilling his own blood to save her? He didn't even like her. Like he said before, he was not the friendly sort.

"Yah. Well, you know." Thorn shrugged, his huge shoulders rippling. "My folks taught me to share." Thorn grinned again, this time revealing a row of thin, razor-sharp fangs. They flashed menacing under the light.

"Really? I received a different edification." Vegeta spread his hands, bracing his fingertips on the walls behind him. He leaned back nonchalantly, swaying his weight between his heels and toes.

Thorn shifted to face him, seemingly realizing the other man in the room might pose a threat to his expected entertainment. He crossed his arms over his chest, smirking down at the underwhelming male.

Bulma curled up tighter on the mattress, tucking her nose between her knees so only her eyes were visible under the fall of her blue bangs. She could feel darkness swell in the room. She knew something horrible was about to happen. It was like watching a child run out into traffic. Horror stopped your heart, but you couldn't scream for help.

"Oh? What was that?"

Vegeta smiled up at him, the darkness in the room shadowing his face. All Bulma could see was the flashing ivory of his teeth and the cold death in his black eyes.

"All I survey is mine. Kill any who try to take it. Even that which I don't want. This is what it is to rule as a Saiyan."

Thorn chuckled, arms still carelessly crossed. "Those are some pretty big words coming from such a little guy."

"Vegeta," Bulma whispered when his wicked grin sharpened.

He was moving before she finished speaking. Instead of leaping forward, he crabbed up the adjoining walls with incredible agility. Once he had the advantage of higher ground, he sprang at his opponent with lightning speed.

Bulma watched in awe as he flew through the air, his tail unwinding behind him for balance. His fist connected solidly with the side of Thorn's head with a sharp crack, making her cringe. The velocity of his body knocked them both to the ground in a heap of flailing fists and animalistic snarls. Vegeta straddled Thorn, pummeling him with half a dozen solid blows to the face. Bulma heard something crack, and blood exploded from Thorn's nose. She gagged, covering her mouth, but she couldn't look away.

Thorn redirected the last punch, throwing Vegeta off balance. He tried to correct himself, but it was too late. Thorn used Vegeta's own momentum to buck him off into the wall with such force it dented the metal. Still prone on the floor, Thorn spun around on his hindquarters, drew back both of his wide feet and kicked Vegeta square in the chest, ramming him again and again against the wall. The blows rocked Vegeta, and the back of his skull cracked against the wall, dazing him. Thorn saw his opening and reared up on his knees, swooping down to punch Vegeta in the face.

Vegeta recovered much faster than Bulma would have thought possible. He kicked himself off the wall, sliding under Thorn's defenses and tackling him in the gut. They fell together to the floor, wrestling for the dominate position. Thorn's blood spilt over the metal floor, making the shiny surface too slick for either man to find purchase. Thorn kicked Vegeta in his already seriously abused ribs, sliding him across the floor, out of reach. Thorn chased after him, wrapping his thickly muscled arm around Vegeta's throat from behind.

Bulma cowered in the corner, helpless and scared. Even though the battle raging in front of her was ki-less, their sheer physical power was overwhelming. She had no weapon to help Vegeta and she knew she would only make things worse if she tried.

Vegeta's face flushed red, and Bulma burst into terrified tears. She was afraid of what Thorn was going to do to her if he won, but she was even more frightened for Vegeta. Despite his murderous attitude he had done nothing to harm her. He even went so far as to protect her. Whether he liked it or not, she considered him a friend, and she just couldn't let another friend die.

"Hey, Furface." Bulma extend her legs off the cot, bracing her weight back on her elbows as she called out. She took a deep breath, tears spilling down her cheeks and opened her legs as wide as she could. "Wanna fuck?"

Thorn's head shot up to look at her. Her stomached heaved as he lustily scanned down her naked body, taking in every precious, exposed inch of her. As horrible as it was to have him looking at her, it wasn't nearly as terrible is the look of absolute fury in Vegeta's black eyes. She swallowed hard, losing herself in his gaze.

Thorn's arm relaxed in shock, giving Vegeta just enough room to maneuver. Still staring into her eyes, Vegeta rammed his elbow into Thorn's lower gut, thrusting him back and up. He coughed blood over Vegeta shoulder, splattering some on his tan cheek. With his hand on Thorn's wrist, Vegeta spun around, twisting his enemy's arm.

Suddenly, released from the hold of his eyes, Bulma was able to breathe. She watched the fine play of muscles on Vegeta's back as he placed his palm flat on the back of Thorn's elbow and pushed. A loud, hideous snap echoed in the room and Thorn roared at the ceiling, trying to leverage himself around to reach Vegeta.

It was too late. Thorn had lost. Everyone in the room knew it, including him. Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, and curled back up on the cot, so she wouldn't see what was happening next. It was worse with her eyes closed. She could hear the repetitive meaty thwack of flesh slamming against flesh, of skull cracking against metal. Vegeta grunted with the force of every blow he delivered, barely disguising the gurgling sounds of Thorn's tortured breathing.

The wet-sucking sounds faded away, leaving only the pounding of fists, echoing through the tiny room for eternity. Finally, that too faded. The only sounds left were Vegeta's heavy breathing and her soft sobs. Bulma lifted her heavy, wet lashes, afraid of what she was going to see. Vegeta straightened over the carnage, his bronze skin painted a rusty-red. Thorn was a bloody mess on the floor, his face an unrecognizable mass of raw meat. Bright, ruby blood was pooling across the silver floor and glistening jewel-like on the walls.

Vegeta looked like a monster. His fists and arms were red. His face was splattered with crimson droplets, and his chest had dark smears across his pectorals. He glanced her way, but she squeezed her eyes shut again. She didn't want to see the murderous rage in his eyes—the evil when he looked at her.

"What? Now, you can't bear to look at me? Can't stand to see a real monster?" he snarled. His fury and hate burned through her gut, slashing her heart with their acidy truth. She didn't want to see him this way. She didn't want to see the darkness surrounding him. How it poured out of his eyes. Death followed him wherever he went. A dark shadow of hate. She didn't want to see it, but it didn't mean she didn't know it was there.

He stalked over to the sink, turning on the water. He washed his face and chest first, before trying to scrub his hands the best he could without soap. His tensed when Bulma crept up beside him. She was wearing Thorn's discarded shirt. The soft material clung to every curve of her body, ending just below the crease of her ass. Slowly, she covered his hands with her own, gently washing away the pink swirls of blood down the drain. She paid special attention to his split knuckles, and beneath his nails. He stood next to her, stock-still, watching her pale hands sliding over his dark ones.

"Not a lot of people understand there is darkness in the universe." Her voice was tiny, nearly insubstantial, but Vegeta strained to hear every word. His muscles rippled under her touch. His breathing eased as her fingers curled around his. "Things have to be done to protect yourself and others--things have to be done to win. Not-so-nice things. Some believe if you just win the battle then the fight is over. We try to banish the darkness with laughter or jokes. Or fill the silence with the sound of our voices, but only the truly courageous acknowledge the shadows at the edge of the light. I would be a fool to condemn you for saving me."

She turned off the water, and dried his hands with the hem of her shirt. She didn't look up at him, just tended his hands while he stared at the crown of her head.

"Thank you, Vegeta," she whispered quietly.

His hands dried, she turned away. She kept her head down, her eyes averted from the body in the middle of the floor. She returned to the cot, curling away from him. He could hear her crying, and for once he couldn't blame her. Acknowledging the darkness was as hard as being swallowed by it whole.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from DBZ.

Free My Heart

Vegeta stood defiantly in the corner, wearing Thorn's soft pants. Though they were too big, after he rolled them up at the waist of few times, they were tight enough to stay on. To accommodate his tail, they rode indecently low on his hips, accentuating the soft convex of his belly resting just below his laddered abs. There was a hint of shadow between his prominent hip bone and the curve of his groin begging to be licked. For days she had inconspicuously stared at the thick heavy length of him. She knew exactly what lay beneath the gray fabric, and somehow now he was covered it was far worse for her. She wanted to run her fingers down the bare, smooth skin of his hip, catch her nails in the material and give it the tiniest little tug.

It was her thoughts keeping her sane, instead of going stark-raving mad. Her fantasies were keeping the reality at bay.

Zarbon was just inside the door, watching as slaves swiftly moved in and out, removing the body and cleaning the blood off the floor and walls. It had been two days since Vegeta killed Thorn. For two days he grew cold and stiff on the floor. For two days he rotted into putrescence less than three feet from where Bulma slept.

She was on the cot, her back to the room. She refused to be moved by either Vegeta or Zarbon. She still wore Thorn's shirt, the hem barely covering her ass, but she didn't care. She did care about keeping it. God help anyone who tried taking it from her. She was at her breaking point. She was tired of being vulnerable, helpless to defend herself from those who wanted to abuse her. She deserved the dignity of covering herself, and she would stop at nothing to claw out the eyes of the next man to touch her.

The sweet smell of decay was replaced by the stringent scent of antiseptic. Bulma inhaled deeply, relishing how it burned her lungs. Until now she thought horror was almost being raped. She thought it was the destruction of her world and the murder of her family. But now she knew. Horror was being trapped in a tiny room with a rotting corpse, its yellow eyes following you wherever you went.

The sounds of slaves disappeared, but the door didn't shut. Curious, Bulma looked over her shoulder. Unconsciously, her eyes flickered to where Thorn had lain for two days. The slaves had done an excellent job of cleaning, but Bulma could see the dark shadow of his body in the reflection of the stainless steel.

She glanced at Zarbon who lounged in the doorway, one arm braced against the frame. It was a very unusually aggressive male stance for Zarbon, and it surprised her enough for her to flip around to face the room. He was glowering angrily at Vegeta, who was standing arms crossed, his trademark sneer planted firmly on his arrogant lips.

"My Pretty is very upset right now. Do you know what it's like to have a mate who's upset, Vegeta?" Zarbon made a curt dismissive gesture through the air. Strands of emerald hair fell across his furled brow. "Of course you don't. Who in their right mind would have such a disgustingly, frustrating wretch like you?"

One side of Vegeta's mouth curled up in a half-smile, making even Bulma want to slap him.

"What's the matter? Can't get that pathetically tiny piece of flesh between your legs hard? Or is it just not big enough to satisfy him anymore?"

Zarbon's lips spread across his perfect pearl teeth in a menacing snarl. Bulma could see something reptilian ripple just beneath his creamy green skin. Vegeta's arms dropped from his chest to rest loose and ready at his sides. Zarbon's amber eyes flared gold before he visibly reeled himself back, stepping just out of the room. Very calmly he brushed his bangs away from his forehead, smoothing his ponytail.

"By not playing along, you've ruined our game. Now, Jeice is too busy pouting to even talk to me."

Bulma raised a brow at Zarbon's sullen tone. If she didn't know better, she would think he was genuinely upset at his boyfriend's behavior. Perhaps they really were lovers in the truest sense of the word. The thought gave Bulma pause. If even the most evil could fall in love, did that mean they could change for the better? She glanced at Vegeta, her mind wheeling at the idea.

"I would say that I'm sorry, but that would be a lie," Vegeta was back to smirking, but there was something different about it. There was victory in his eyes. He had won the battle of wills between him and Zarbon. Another point had been tallied in his favor.

Bulma dropped her eyes to her lap. When Jeice told her she was a pawn, she felt despair. But now she realized Vegeta saw her in the same light as his enemies. A pawn in their on-going struggle for dominance. Now instead of despair she felt betrayal.

Bulma heard the screeching sound of warping metal. She glanced up in time to see the heavy, steel door bounce back towards Zarbon. The bottom panel where their food was served from was dented. She could only assume Zarbon had kicked it in a fit of fury.

"Well, time is up Monkey Man. We have to go down to the surface for a few days. Seems like some locals are giving our boys problems. But when we get back you can kiss your cellie goodbye. We are going to have some quality time together before she gets shipped to the whore's quarters though. It should be fun. It may even cheer Jeice up a bit." He stopped to scan Bulma, his eyes lingering at the hemline of her shirt just at her thighs. She refused to move. To show any fear. She wouldn't cry. Not now. Not when they took her. Not ever.

He ignored her defiance, and sneered at Vegeta. "You on the other hand, are going to spend the rest of your sentence all by your lonesome so you can think about how fucked you're going to be when you get out of here. I've already got the perfect mission to convince Lord Frieza to send you on. If you don't die, you'll wish you had."

Zarbon's hateful glare was burned into Bulma's brain as he slammed the door shut, locking them in. Bulma watched the door for long moments, before rolling over to face the wall. She stared at the silver steel, looking at her distorted reflection. She wondered how long she would stay beautiful. With her stunning good looks, it was a safe bet she would be a hit at the brothel. She would be in high demand. It would take time, but she knew the pain and suffering, the humiliation and the inevitable disease would wear her down. Soon she would be a vacant shell, her looks fading away. Unfortunately she doubted even that would save her. She would just get demoted to serve less ranking soldiers.

She wondered how readily available narcotics were on the ship. She had always been one of those goody-two-shoes, fresh-faced, say no to drugs kids, but now it seemed appropriate. Floating in a sea of nothingness would be a dream come true. No sensation, no awareness. Just peace.

"You're crying."

She hadn't heard Vegeta come up behind her, but she wasn't startled. She was too deadened to feel anything.

"I am?" she asked softly, touching her fingertips to her cheeks. Sure enough her face was wet with silent tears. "I promise it will be the last time." She dropped her hand, and went back to sullenly staring at her visage.

Vegeta watched her. It was the first time he had ever seen her cry without making a sound. Usually she wailed like a banshee, but this time the only way he had known was by the salty scent of her tears in the air. This time it was different. This wasn't self-pity. It was hopelessness. It was her, giving up on life.

"I can't save you from the whore quarters," he said gruffly, suddenly, inexplicably mad.

"I didn't ask you too."

He could buy her he supposed. He had more than enough money. But he had no idea how long it would be before he got out of the dungeon. It could be days or weeks. By then it would be too late. She would have been raped by dozens of men by then.

His fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't move. And if he did buy her it wouldn't be long before she was dead by political assassination. He had many enemies who would take delight in slowly torturing anyone remotely connected to him. Especially someone so weak they couldn't protect themselves. He wouldn't be able to protect her either. He left on missions for months, even years at a time. She would be better off as a whore. She would probably live longer that way.

"I'm not free to do as I please," he spat at her venomously. She hunched her shoulders against his wrath, drawing her knees to her chest. Her silence enraged him even more.

"I can't save you!" he shouted, standing over her.

She rolled over, her eyes spitting fire as she rose up on her knees to draw even with him.

"I didn't ask you too," she screamed back, pummeling him in the chest with her tiny fists. "Why would you? I'm nothing to you. Just a pawn. Just plaything for your sick games. I hate you. I hate you all!" she shouted fiercely.

He rocked back at her assault. It was true. When he realized he had won the battle of wills with Zarbon and Jeice, he had been elated. Even imprisoned he had been able to defy the odds and not break. All he had to do was stay in his corner for two more days. All he had to do was walk away. Not touch her. Not feel. Do nothing.

He gripped her upper arms and pulled her into his broad chest. Her breasts heaved against him with every breath she took. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her mouth was parted in awe. She didn't have time to struggle away as he descended on her, covering her soft mouth with his full lips. He kissed her deeply, sucking the air from her lungs. Her eyes rolled back as she savored the strong taste of him on her tongue. Something visceral wrapped its way around her lower belly. All her fear, worry, the insanity lurking at the edges of her mind, disappeared with the touch of his hot skin against her, the taste of him on her lips.

He broke away abruptly, just as she was exploring him. She felt his loss intensely, deep inside where an insistent ache had begun to bloom. Her glittering sapphire eyes shot open to glare at him. She was stunned and wanting all at the same time.

"I can't save you from the brothel, but I can save you from Zarbon and Jeice."

She blinked, peering deep into his eyes. She looked past the darkness into the fire. She allowed herself to be hypnotized by the dance of the flames, paralyzed by the heat.

"But then you'll lose."

He would lose. He would lose the respect he fought so hard for over the years. He would lose a piece of himself when she was taken away. He would lose his pride at the weakness he would feel in his heart when she eventually died. He thought about being thirteen again. How he had been ruled by emotions and hormones. All his wants and needs tangled up into an indecipherable ball in his gut. How in the moment, when he watched his blood pour out of him, all he wanted was to die. The knowledge he wasn't fit to lead burning in his throat, how he would never be the prince everyone needed him to be.

Bulma didn't make him want to be a prince. She didn't make him want to fight for dominance. All she did was make him want to stand up and be a man. Her man.

The fire in Vegeta's eyes leapt, and Bulma knew it wasn't flames of destruction, but those of desire.

"I've lost before."

She gasped and it wasn't until that moment she realized she had been holding her breath. His words shook her to the core. The thought of him sacrificing such an intrinsic part of himself, his pride, just to save her from this one thing, it made her want to weep. It was the last thing she wanted from Vegeta. She would never ask it of him. She didn't want to be saved from him. She wanted to be wanted.

She pulled away, her lips trembling. "It would change nothing. Whether its Zarbon and Jeice or a entire crew of men. Unless a miracle happens, it will be done. I don't want you to sacrifice your pride, because you feel sorry for the poor, pathetic, Earth girl. I would never take something so important from you, and the last thing I need is a pity fuck."

His fingers tightened on the sensitive skin of her underarms. He wouldn't let her fall back into a puddle of self-pity on the bed. He forced her to look at him. To see him.

"It's my choice, not yours," he bit out scathingly, his eyes dark glassy pools.

She heard his anger, could feel it vibrate through his fingers straight into her spine. Her lips thinned mutinously, and her eyes narrowed.

"It's my choice to say no," she spat, still angry at everything, even him.

He growled low and deep in his throat. She shivered in his grip, barely resisting the urge to gather herself against his chest so she could feel it ricochet through her body. It was a wholly animalistic sound. A deadly warning not to play around, to run, to hide, but all Bulma wanted to do was bask in it.

"The universe does not revolve around you, little female. I do nothing for the sake of others. I feel sorry for no one, and I do not sacrifice anything out of mere pity. Have you not once considered my motives?"

She looked up at him searchingly. She fell into his deep, endless eyes, her mind whirling in circles. There was no strategic value to sleeping with her. There was nothing she could give him, and it would only decrease his strength in his enemies' eyes. There could only be one reason he would do so.

"You want me?" Her voice broke, and she lost the ability to breathe. She trembled as hot, liquid desire spread through her chest.

"Haven't I said as much?" he glowered at her, his dark brows clouding.

She choked on the breath caught in her throat, and she fell forward into his wide, bare chest. She pressed her face against the warm skin above his heart, her fingernails skimming over his ribs. He still held her by the arms, suspended but not separate from him. He stood still beneath her touch, allowing her to hear the beat of his heart.

"You want me," she whispered again in awe, soaking in the pure, fiery heat of him. She knew if she grew to be a hundred she would never know warmth like his again.

"Hmm." Vegeta slid his hands down her forearms, his strong fingers gently encircling her fragile wrists. He lowered his head to sniff her hair, seeking her floral feminine scent. Even after days of just taking baths in the sink, deep down beneath the grim of the dungeon, she still smelled of flowers and rain. It was a singular scent, hers alone and no one else's. She leaned into him, nuzzling his neck, her lips ghosting over his pulse. His heart quickened at her touch, the feel of her silken skin against his. "What is it you want?" he whispered into her ear.

She drew her head back, her lips brushing his. "You, Vegeta. To be touched gently one last time. I want you to kiss me."

His lips descended over hers, his tongue delving deep inside her mouth. She melted into him, giving her entire self over to him. He released her wrists, reaching around to cradle the curve of her bottom in his palms. She was round and smooth. She fitted against him perfectly, pooling liquid heat in the vast emptiness inside him. She fitted against his chest as though she was made to be held there. So delicate and graceful, a dream formed into reality just for him. He lifted her up, pulling her hips into him so she could feel the hard press of his shaft against her cleft. So she could feel how much he wanted her, needed her—absolutely _craved_ her.

The soft material of his pants rubbed against her enticingly, teasing her with the thought of his velvety skin just beneath the thin fabric. She wound her arms around his neck, her hands smoothing over his layered muscles almost reverently. He was so strong, enormously powerful even without his ki. The instinctive female inside her purred at the thick bulge of his muscled under her palm and the feel of his rigid stomach pressed against her softer one. The way he held her to his chest, made her feel delicate, cherished. Something to be handled with loving care.

She peered up at him, but she was surprised to see his lashes crested against his tanned cheeks. Warmth exploded in her chest at the sight. Vegeta vulnerable and trusting, fearlessly closing his eyes while kissing her. Somehow she knew the dangerous predator holding her normally wouldn't take the risk. Even in his most intimate moments he would be vigilant against an attack, but with her he was solely in the moment. Indulging only in her, and thinking of nothing else.

Her lashes drifted shut, but at the last moment darkness flashed across her line of sight. A strangled gasp of distress bubbled up her throat. She tried to force it back, but failed. The memory of Thorn rotting on the floor sickened her. She squeezed her eyes shut, drowning herself in sensation to escape reality.

Vegeta's shoulders stiffened under her hands, but he didn't stop kissing her. His lips were warm and comforting, but aggressive in their wants. He tasted her, slipping his tongue across her lips before devouring her whole. With an erotic swirl of his tongue he managed to distract her from sadness, shutting the world away until only they existed. He dragged her off the cot, her toes dangling above the floor as she clung to him. One large hand, fingers splayed so he could feel as much of her skin as possible, slid up the curve of her back to bury itself in her long tangle of hair. Her head grew light and black dots danced across her lids, but she refused to let him go. She wanted to die right there in his arms. It was her own personal heaven.

He pulled away and she moaned in disappointment. He peered into her eyes, looking deep into her soul.

"Can you see the darkness?"

Her smooth brow creased. She knew there was darkness inside Vegeta. Deep down in his soul, but when she looked at him all she could see were the bright burning flames.

"I see fire."

A small smile graced his lips, and her heart fluttered in response. She had never seen such an expression on his face before. It wasn't mocking or leering. It was the purest reflection of him she had ever seen. His eyes flickered to the side, drawing her attention to the floor behind him.

"I meant the darkness on the floor. Some people can't see it, but death always leaves a remnant."

She inhaled sharply, realizing the shadow on the floor wasn't just in her imagination. She nodded slowly, her lashes dipping to cover her jewel-bright eyes. Very carefully, Vegeta lowered her to the ground, sliding her body over his in a tease. Her fingers curled over his biceps to keep him close, but he placed his hands on her hips, pushing her aside.

He reached down with one hand and flipped the cot up onto its side. The thin mattress slid onto the floor between the wall and the upended frame, creating a tiny concealed space. He led her to the foot of the bed, so she could crawl onto the pallet. She stood for a moment, glancing between the stain and the wall Vegeta had created.

He towered over her from behind, but she didn't feel intimidated. She felt protected. He inhaled, and she leaned into him, knowing he wanted her scent. Small blue hairs clung to his bare chest and she could feel the gentle tug on her scalp when she turned her head to speak to him.

"Are you putting a barrier between us and death, Vegeta?"

Behind her, he shrugged, compelling her to turn around. She looked searchingly up at him. He didn't respond to her question, but she refused to move away until she had an answer. He braced his hand on the bed frame, leaning towards her, casting her into his dark shadow.

"Impossible. I am death," he told her ominously. "And right now, even the Gods wouldn't dare get between me and your tight little body."

Her face warmed at the blatant desire lacing his rich voice, and the passion in his dark eyes. She folded under his intensity and she looked down, noticing the nearly imperceptible skeins of blue hair catching on his chest connecting them. She lightly dragged her nails down his washboard stomach until they caught in the waistband of his pants.

"I don't believe you are death, Vegeta."

He very intently followed the path of her delicate, long fingers, watching as they dipped beneath the roll of his pants. His eyes darted up to her face, but her focus was solely on her hand as well.

"Then you are a foolish woman, Bulma."

She didn't look up at him, but a faint smile curved on her lips. She clenched her fist in the material, her knuckles brushing crisp dark hair. She may be a foolish woman, but she was only moments away from having him completely. Even it was only for a day or two. Who else in the universe could boast such a claim? She pulled on the cloth, gratified when the folds came undone easily, falling to the ground around his feet. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the musky male scent of him.

CENSORED

Suddenly he grabbed her wrist, forcing her to look up at him. What she saw took her breath away. His dark, lean features were intense with desire. His hooded eyes smoldering with burning need. He pulled her into him, brushing his cheek against hers.

"Between you and the remnants of death, then," he whispered into her hair, almost if he was trying to appease her in some way by conceding a small point, before pushing her back on the mattress.

CENSORED

A/N: Sorry guys, but we all know the rules. The last time I broke them I lost almost 1000 reviews just between AAO and LM. If you want to read the rest of the chapter you can find my complete work at media miner under my pen name temptingtemptation. Please don't email me asking me to send you a copy. I'm sorry but I just don't have the time. Thank you so much for your patience. Have a great week!

Tempest


	9. Chapter 9

DISCLAIMER: I don't own or profit from DBZ

A/N: I feel compelled to point out that I enjoy romance novels immensely, which should be obvious by my style of writing. Though most of the time I do think they are sadly lacking in content. Why can't they have an exhilarating adventure _and_ find true love?

Thank you again for all the kind reviews. I'm so glad you guys are continuing to enjoy this as much as I am.

Free My Heart

Bulma sat with her bare bottom on Vegeta's lower back as he did yet another push-up. His stamina and virility were a constant amazement to her. She loved to watch him exercise, and when he told her he needed more weight to become even more physically powerful she was more than happy to donate her time and her bottom.

His tail was firmly wrapped around her upper thigh to keep her in place, as he rhythmically thrust himself up from the ground. Absently, she trailed her fingers through his thick dark fur, practically purring as the soft hair ran under her nails.

"What's your heart's desire, Vegeta?" she asked lazily, a contented smile stretched across her lips. They had just spent the last few hours having fantastic sex, and she didn't think she could get any more relaxed.

He grunted, ignoring her to continue his regimen. Her weight shifted over his back, and he could feel her swollen wetness against his spine. Flames spread out from where she touched him, warming his entire body with liquid heat. The fire she inflamed under his skin when she touched him was addicting. He savored it, was intoxicated by it. He found himself making excuses just to touch her so he could feel warmth in his core, instead of the freezing cold residing there.

"Oh, come on. Tell me. Please," she cajoled prettily.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, you lunatic."

She expected him to be slightly out of breath, but his voice was steady if not surly. She pouted a little, leaning back on one elbow. She steadied herself at the center of his back so she wouldn't list off to the side before replying.

"You know, the one thing you want most out of life."

She felt the muscles beneath her bottom flutter then go ridged. She loved the tiny dance of his muscle across his back. They spoke volumes when he was silent.

"Immortality. I will be strong enough someday to kill my enemies and exact my revenge," he spat, clearly thinking of those who he would like to murder with his bare hands.

She clucked her tongue, not in the least effected by his temper.

"Immortality doesn't necessarily mean strength. What if you ended up with eternal life, but were helpless to stop another from throttling you?"

"I'm the prince. Undefeatable in battle."

Bulma rolled her eyes, and played with the tip of his tail. It was waving up at her, taunting her to trap it between her fingertips. She was sure he wasn't aware of the movement, it was just the way he expressed agitation. Not unlike a cranky housecat. She smiled at the thought, and curled the fingers of the hand resting on his back, so she could feel more of his skin next to hers.

"Well the undefeated prince is currently imprisoned, and I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be any different if he was immortal." Her voice wasn't snide, but it definitely had a teaching tone to it he chaffed under. He was silent for a long moment, considering her words. He had dreamt of immortality for as long as he could remember, but now it seemed a child's fantasy. Perhaps he needed to reconsider what he really wanted. More than anything he wished to see the death of his tormentor Frieza, and to rule over the universe as he was meant to. There was only one way to do that.

"Legendary," he muttered.

"What was that?" Bulma questioned, unable to hear him clearly.

"Immortality _and_ power. Happy now, woman?"

"Me," she asked innocently, shrugging. "This isn't about me, Vegeta. It's about you. Besides, that's not what I'm talking about. That's your ambition dream. I was asking about your heart's desire."

"My what?" he snapped, and she had to balance herself as he increased his pace. His tail tightened over her upper thigh, holding her steady so she wouldn't fall and hurt herself.

"You know, your ambition dream. The one you tell everyone. For instance, I have fifteen year plan, which everyone interprets as my 'dream'." She used air quotes as she spoke, even though he couldn't see her. "It ends up with me being the most successful woman in the world, as the CEO of Capsule Corporation."

"Sounds worthy, for your weak human standards."

Bulma rolled her eyes and chuckled. An insult and a compliment all rolled into one. Wasn't she a lucky girl?

"The problem is it required me to be perfect in every way. Perfect grades, perfect inventions, perfect business woman. Never ever make a mistake. Never be a woman. But deep down, I have a true heart's desire. Something, I've never told anyone."

Vegeta came to a halt, his arms fully extended, her weight braced easily on his back. Defeated, he dropped his head down between his arms, groaning in mock agony.

"Gods, not this again. Doesn't that brain of yours ever shut off?"

Bulma thought about it seriously for a minute. She was tempted to hum the Jeopardy tune, just to keep him in suspense.

"No, not really. Now do you want me to tell you or not?"

"Will you shut up afterwards?" he asked hopefully, already knowing the answer. Sweat rolled from his temple to the point of his jaw, and he swiped his cheek against his bulging bicep to wipe it away.

"Probably not. Besides, who else am I going to talk to? Mister Tinkle Pot?"

"Who?" Vegeta snapped, clearly pissed but uncertain why. If she was insane and manifesting hallucinations, he didn't want to know. He needed her to be sane. He needed her to be exactly the way she was. Not any different. And if it wasn't a hallucination, he didn't want to know about it either. The thought of her telling another man about her dreams, however ridiculous, made him want to rip something apart. She leaned further back, the feel of her soft, satiny skin against his making him hunger for another taste of her. She extended her arm past his face, pointing to the corner of the room.

"You named the toilet?" he gasped incredulously. The woman never ceased to amaze him. Maybe she really was a lunatic.

She shrugged, entertained by the surprise in his tone. "It seemed appropriate; after all it's the most intimate I've been with an appliance in a long while."

Choked laughter briefly escaped him, but he clamped his lips together, locking away the foreign sensation of amusement. Lightness and warmth rioted briefly in the steel cage of his chest, and he had to refocus his dark gaze to smooth sheen of metal between his hands, rapidly doing another series of push-ups.

"I want true love."

Vegeta's shoulders rolled and Bulma almost fell off. Her hand slicked against his sweat dampened back when he came to an abrupt stop at the upright position, his muscles rock-hard.

"What?" he hissed.

"I don't mean now, Vegeta. Gees. Get a grip. I meant before. Before all this happened, and my life wasn't turned upside down."

Slowly he lowered himself, falling back into the routine again.

"You see love wasn't in my fifteen year plan. I think that's why Yamcha and I broke up after ten long years. Deep down we both knew he wasn't the one. He just didn't make me tingle. There was no spark. I always hoped I would meet some stranger, and get swept away by passion. But Bulma Briefs doesn't get swept. She doesn't miscalculate ever. My life was going exactly as planned. Every beautiful, perfect, utterly loveless bit of it."

Vegeta had no idea why he was getting so pissed off the more the woman talked. It certainly wasn't her reference to a man she had been fucking for the last ten years. He knew for damn sure she wasn't a virgin. He wasn't bothered one bit by it. It wasn't his fucking business. He had fucked plenty of women before her. He didn't fucking care.

"Love? That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard," he snarled, and instantly regretted it.

Bulma shot up to her original sitting position. She would have gotten off his back entirely, but his tail wouldn't release her. The tip flicked her skin angrily, before soothing against her inner thigh in silent apology. It took her a moment to realize that Vegeta was just lashing out because he was upset. She tried not to think it was her mention of Yamcha. It would be counterproductive of her to even consider Vegeta as the monogamous type. They certainly weren't going to get married. Hell, she might not even been alive in a couple of days.

She decided to let his nasty remark slide, but she didn't lean back either.

"Yes, love. True, burn me up with passion, the other half of my soul, love. Love that remains strong even as you grow old. The kind of devotion you would sacrifice everything for, knowing in your heart you would do anything for them. To be assured that nothing could ever tear you apart, and they would never leave you. That it would absolutely kill you to be separated from them. The knowledge you would never be alone." Bulma sighed deeply, as emotion welled up inside her. All she ever wanted to be was loved. Truly, without censure or judgment. To be needed so badly by one man, that only death could keep them apart.

"You truly are fucked up, aren't you?" For the first time, Vegeta didn't speak to her in a tone of ridicule. He sounded almost sympathetic. It was his tone that made her stay, when his cruel words wanted to make her flee. "What you are talking about doesn't exist. It's a huge fucking lie. It's a fairy tale men spin for women so they can get between their legs. An excuse women make up to cope with their loneliness."

"I'm not lonely," Bulma snapped, ignoring the tight clench in her chest as her emotional bubble popped. She had been lonely since the day she was born. Her parents were the ones to show her the meaning true love. They had a blissful marriage, and only had eyes for each other. A match made in the society pages, a wealthy older inventor marries beautiful debutant. Unfortunately, Bulma was just an afterthought in their lives. Their beautiful talented daughter they sent off to boarding schools and universities so they could have their time together.

"Sure you are. You'll find some prick who'll feed you all the lies you want to hear, and you'll lap it all up. Probably some pathetic weakling who won't be able to care for you properly. You have poor judgment like that."

"I don't need a man to take care of me," Bulma spat, truly pissed. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Yah, it shows," Vegeta scoffed.

"That's unfair!" She slapped his shoulder hard, the sound of smacking flesh ringing through the room. "This entire situation is unfair!" She smacked him again. "I was never prepared for this." She slapped him one last time, her palm stinging from the contact. "My world being destroyed, my family murdered, everyone and everything dead. It's just---," her words broke off in a ragged sob. She dug her nails into the meat of his shoulder where her hand finally came to rest. Vegeta didn't even flinch at her abuse, and silently he was appreciative of it. He knew sometimes the only way to relieve emotional agony was to dole out some physical pain. He was no weakling, and he could easily take anything she chose to dish out.

"Horrible. Yah, I get it. And you need to get over it. It's done. Live with it," Vegeta told her scathingly, no pity or mercy in his rich baritone voice.

She sighed, unconsciously rubbing away the sting of her abuse, her hand lightly massaging his shoulder. Defeated, she leaned back on Vegeta, so her head was cradled between his neck and shoulder. She tried not to be hurt by Vegeta's words, but it was hard. Every time she thought about her home, all she wanted to do was cry. So instead of thinking, like she had done her entire life, she was feeling. A foreign concept, but it was soothing in a way. She didn't have to think about the consequences of her actions, only how they made her feel. For instance, how absolutely wonderful it felt to have Vegeta inside of her, stroking her, holding her.

Bulma's long blue hair cascaded down the length of his arm, piling over his hand. He watched as the blue waterfall gleamed in the light as he moved. He had never seen hair like hers. It was silky to the touch, the deep aqua color of oceans. Small strands always managed to find their way to him, clinging onto him desperately even when she moved away.

He heard the defeat in her small exhale of breath, and he couldn't help, but to prod her. If she gave up now, she would be dead within days of being released from their cell. Pure despair would murder her soul even as she continued to live on.

"Being capable means being adaptable. Being adaptable means being able to survive," he educated her quietly, thinking of his life. He had been raised a prince, but lived as a slave. As a child he had been unprepared for the horrors he had to endure, but endure he had. It was what made him strong. It's what made him who he was.

"You know what lies?"

Vegeta noted the fake lightness in her voice and he didn't answer. If she wanted to change the subject then he didn't mind. He didn't want to dwell on his past, and he certainly didn't want to think about what happened to her. After all, it was he who brought all that misery to her. A fact, she conveniently seemed to have forgotten.

"Romance novels," she observed seriously. "It doesn't matter how plain the girl is, the gorgeous hunk always falls madly in love with her. Just one scent of her perfume or sound of her voice and he's lost. He never looks at another woman again, because a little voice inside his head growls, '_mine_'. There are no men on Earth like that. It's a total sham."

Vegeta dipped his shoulder, and with a surprised shriek Bulma rolled off his back and landed on the ground beneath him. He trapped her there, his hands on either side of her face.

"You've gone on and on about absolutely nothing. A weak womanish fantasy, that isn't worth all the effort your little mind seems to be putting into it."

She pouted up at Vegeta, her sapphire eyes narrowing. She was utterly beautiful. Her lower lip was begging to be kissed, her skin was meant to be caressed. His tail curled around her waist possessively, the tip dipping into her belly button. She squirmed, and he almost smiled. The little dip in her belly was delightfully ticklish, but she wasn't in the mood to admit it.

Mirroring his aggressiveness she curled her fingers around his collar. Red lights winked out from dull, gray metal, daring her to uncover their secrets. Her fingers brushed against his pulse, and she could feel his blood leap beneath the burning heat of his skin. She tried to pull him closer, but he refused to be moved. His elbows locked into place, as he stared down at her. He ignored the lank of sweat-dampened hair falling across his forehead, making him look just a little roguish.

He turned his head to the side, glancing down at her hand from the corner of his eye. His dark lashes crested over his cheeks, before his gaze flickered to her aroused breasts, lingering on her pearled, pink nipples before meeting her gaze again. His expression was that of a wolf, having spotted its next meal.

"You have no idea what I'm going to do to you once I get this collar off." The smoldering intensity of his promise made hot, wet sensation gush to the apex of her thighs. She tingled so badly, she had to press her thighs together in attempt to alleviate her sudden discomfort. She had no idea what he meant by his statement, but she _really_ wanted to find out. She swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on her original train of thought.

"True love does exist, Vegeta."

Vegeta's black eyes flared as he glared down at her. "You just said it was a sham." Using his tail he arched her body up towards his, watching her full breasts jiggle. His grin sharpened and he gave her another tiny shake.

"No, I said romance novels are a sham. Men just aren't like that. What I'm talking about is love."

"Well, you are definitely sniffing around the wrong place for that, woman." He dropped her, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of conversation. He tried to unwind his tail, but Bulma slid her free hand down its soft, sleek length, her fingers curling around him intimately. She chuckled when he shuttered at her touch. He could still see sadness in the backs of her brilliant, blue eyes, but he forced himself to ignore it.

"Don't worry, tough guy. You definitely aren't marriage material. I would be a fool to believe you would ever commit to anyone, especially me. I'm just a weak human from Earth and you are some bad-ass alien. We are hardly compatible. It is just circumstance that has pushed us together."

He lowered himself to rest his weight on his elbows. She spread her thighs so he could lay between her legs. As far as he was concerned their nonsensical conversation was over and he deftly evaded her original question of what his true desire was. The best way he knew to keep her mind off it was to distract her completely.

He rubbed his cheek across her naked breasts, relishing the feel of her soft skin. She really was small and delicate compared to him. Truly the most beautiful female he had ever seen. He inhaled deeply, imprinting her unique scent on his brain.

"True, I'm not from Earth, but we are definitely compatible in every way that counts." He murmured, against her skin, thrusting his hips suggestively against hers.

She arched against his hard body, and delved her fingers into his hair. Reluctantly he lifted his eyes from the expanse of her creamy skin to look at her. She smiled up at him, and he was momentarily blinded at her innate brightness. She was the most beautiful when she smiled. She curled her arms around his neck, bringing him into a drowning kiss that burned away all the stray thoughts in his mind except for how much he desired her.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from DBZ.

Bikram hot yoga. 90 minutes in a room that's 116 degrees (Fahrenheit). Seriously, why aren't I skinnier?

Free My Heart

Vegeta watched as Bulma knelt down then proceeded to lie back, her spine flat on the ground, her feet still tucked beneath her. Her soft gray shirt rose above her hips, the hem resting across her belly, leaving her lower body fully exposed. One black brow cocked in interest. He relaxed in his corner for the last hour watching as she twisted herself into a series of impressively agile poses. What the woman lacked in strength she definitely made up for in flexibility. A trait she had been more than willing to share during their bouts of intensely, fabulous sex.

He was thinking about initiating another heated encounter when her stomach rumbled loudly in the near empty room. Vegeta's interested expression deepened into a severe frown, as he receded into his dark thoughts. Bulma covered her stomach, sighing deeply.

"It's been two days since they fed us. Are we being punished?"

"No." Vegeta stood up, and paced the back wall, his tail flicking behind him in frustration. Bulma cocked her head so she could look at him upside down. He was wearing his intense thinking face. The look he got when he knew something bad and wasn't telling her.

"Zarbon and Jeice should have been back five days ago." Her voice was tiny, almost inaudible. Vegeta could hear fear. Fear of by just by saying their names, the monsters would appear and drag her away. His tailed whipped around, wrapping tightly around his waist in response to her upset.

"Something's wrong," he muttered, coming to a standstill in front of the overturned bed frame. Every night since they first had sex, they lay together on their pallet on the floor, sheltered from the rest of the room. Bulma would curl around him, tucked against his chest. Her soft breathing would soothe his chaotic mind as he stared at the darkened ceiling.

There was closeness between them that made him distinctly uncomfortable. It was too fast, too spontaneous. On the surface he knew it was wrong. He shouldn't allow her into his space, such easy access to his body--so close to his thoughts. She had become a part of him in some fundamental way that was unacceptable. It put them both in mortal danger.

But all those logical thoughts were nothing compared to the feelings of male aggressiveness and possessiveness boiling just beneath in his primordial mind. The less he slept the more animal he became. He knew sleep deprivation was the answer to all his emotional quandaries. As soon as he had a good night sleep all of his misplaced emotion would disappear. His need for her had absolutely nothing to do with the fact he only felt warm when she was touching him.

The framework of the cot was lined with horizontal metal slats. He kicked the bed so it landed face down on their pallet, and planted his foot on the frame. He gripped one of the slats, yanking on it with all his might. The screws loosened, and wrenched away from the frame with a rending screech of metal.

Gracefully, Bulma rose to her feet, moving to the wall out of Vegeta's way. She watched silently as he crossed the room to the door. The dent Zarbon had made in the tiny panel had never been repaired so there was just enough room to push the metal slat between the main door and the slider. Vegeta hunkered down, easing the slat in carefully, and then jiggling it up and down until there was the sound of a latched being flipped.

Bulma gripped her shirt above her heart, suddenly too afraid to breathe.

"Vegeta, what about the guards?" she whispered frantically.

"There are no guards," he stated matter-of-factly, as he pulled the bar out from the door, trying to get enough leverage to move the slider.

"How do you know?" Bulma moved closer to watch him.

"Because they would have fed us by now."

"There have to be guards. Who's been turning out the lights at night?"

"They're automated." The door slid back a couple of inches, giving Vegeta enough room to get a grip, and open it the rest of the way.

"But where could the guards have gone?" Bulma questioned worriedly.

The door open, Vegeta stood up, throwing her an annoyed glance.

"I don't know. But if we stay here we will starve to death."

Bulma frowned, rubbing her empty stomach. She glanced at the tiny opening, then back up to Vegeta. He stared at her expectantly.

"Are you sure there are no guards out there?" she whispered, still scared. Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest, and nodded confidently. Bulma swallowed, her fear receding. She trusted Vegeta to know what he was talking about.

She knelt down by the opening, examining the height and width. It would be a very tight fit, but it was worth a try. The last thing she wanted to do was starve to death. Neither did she want to end up in the slave quarters. Whatever had the guard's attention, now was the perfect opportunity to make a jail break.

She placed her hand on the lower edge, wincing as it cut into her hand with a small amount of pressure. She looked back at Vegeta, but he just quietly watched her, trusting her to make the right assessment.

"Okay," she exhaled, whipping her shirt over her head. She couldn't risk it getting caught on the edges, and she was going to need as much leeway as possible to squeeze through the tiny opening.

She extended her left hand first, knowing that getting her shoulders through was going to be the hardest part. For once she was grateful she had being doing yoga for years; not just for her tone body, but for the flexibility and muscle strength she was now going to need.

She pushed her head through, trying hard not to scrape her tender cheeks or ears. Her long hair caught on the edges and she closed her eyes against the sting of some tendrils being pulled from her scalp. She wrapped her right arm around her back, lowering her shoulder, so her body became a straight line. With her left hand planted firmly on the cold tile floor outside the door, she used the strength in her arm to pull her through the opening. As expected, her shoulder caught on the door. She paused for a moment, turning her head so she could check her surroundings.

The corridor was empty. She listened intently, but all she could hear was the sound of her own strained breathing. Satisfied she was alone, she sucked her lower lip between her teeth and bit down hard, thinking about all the food waiting for her just outside the cell. All she had to do was squeeze herself through and she would be home-free. The rough edge of metal scraped over her shoulder, taking a goodly chunk of her skin. A warm coat of blood spread over her rounded shoulder and down her arm. The slickness helped her to slide through, and her shoulder popped out with a wet sucking sound.

She gasped, trying to hold back the tears. Her breasts were poised unprotected just behind the lip of the door, making her feel exposed. She closed her eyes against the raw, hot pain radiating from her shoulder. Suddenly she felt Vegeta's hand on her lower back. Warmth spread out along her spine, loosening the hard knot in her belly. He didn't say anything to her, but she felt his reassurance, his support.

She flexed her hand still behind her back, gratified when he twined his thick fingers in hers. She squeezed his hand, taking a big breath and lifted herself up so her back was pressed against the upper lip, her nipples skimming the lower edge. She pushed her way through, moaning a little as the sensitive skin of her back scrapped along the metal, but her breasts stayed relatively untouched.

Her narrow waist fit easily through the hole and she was able to pull herself out to her hips, releasing her other hand so she could rest all of her upper body weight on her forearms. She dropped her forehead to her hands, taking a much needed breather. Vegeta moved his grip to her ankle, his strong fingers banding around her reassuringly.

"I guess this is what it's like to be born?" she laughed shakily. Vegeta grunted behind her, his fingers tightening.

"I'm going to lift your legs to help you through. Just tell me when you are ready."

Bulma nodded against her hands, knowing he couldn't see her. Her hips were going to be a problem. She had always been proud of their feminine swell. She rocked in low rise jeans, making other women jealous. However, right now, having no butt was sounding like a swell plan.

"Okay," she called, steadying her upper body with her arms so she was in a straight line. Vegeta lifted her legs and gently pushed forward. She rocked on her arms, taking deep panting breaths as her skin caught on the edges, scrapping her raw. She clenched her mouth shut, moaning behind her teeth. Fire spread down her hips and across the fleshy part of her bottom. Her upper thighs caught and she bit down on the pain.

"Almost," Vegeta assured her, but she thought for a moment she heard tightness in his voice. She slithered forward, gasping when she pushed free. Vegeta nudged her feet, helping her the rest of the way through. She rolled out on the ground, panting as fire spread across her skin with every breath.

"Bulma?"

She wiped the tears out of her eyes, before she looked behind her. She tried to smile when she saw Vegeta peering at her from the other side. His face was stoic, but she could see the banked fire behind the coldness of his eyes.

"I'm okay. Just catching my breath."

He stared at her for a moment longer, before dipping his head in acceptance. He stood up, waiting for her to unlock the door. She slowly rolled up onto her knees, bracing her weight against the door to stand. Blood rolled down her thighs and dripped off her knees, more streamed down her arm, pooling in the hollow of her inner elbow. She wiped the sweat from her brow as she examined the heavy metal door. There was a heavy lever she had pull down to throw the bolt. She dragged all of her weight on it, gritting her teeth as it slowly moved.

Once free, Vegeta helped her to open the door. One perfect blue brow winged when she saw, Vegeta standing in front of her with no pants on. She scanned down his naked body, enjoying the view of his broad chest and thick thighs. His penis lay inert between his legs, but it gave a little twitch at her inspection. She cocked a half-smile at Vegeta he didn't return. Wordlessly, he strode up to her, using the soft gray material bunched in his hand to wipe her blood away. She winced, the burning across her skin feeling like a forest fire. Wanting to show him how strong she was, she did her best not to flinch away, and stood still under his ministrations. Thankfully, the painful, but superficial wounds were already clotting. She was going to need some bandages, but she would be fine for now.

Satisfied she was clean as she was going to get, Vegeta put the pants back on, now blotchy with blood. She looked away, uncomfortable with the sight, and retrieved her shirt. She was relieved she wasn't going to have to explore the ship completely naked.

When she exited the cell, Vegeta was already at the far end of the hall, peering out a tiny window in the door, looking for any guards. Finding none, he opened the door, confidently leading the way.

"Where too?" she asked, following behind him.

"Engineering. There will be computers so I can find out what the fuck is going on, as well as tools you can use to disarm the collar."

Bulma glanced at the back of his head, surprised.

"You trust me?" Frankly, after the last time she almost blew them up, she was surprised he was even contemplating letting her get near the finicky circuitry.

Vegeta didn't answer, but the fine muscles across his back rippled. Once they dressed she would miss looking at his back the most. The minute dance of his muscles answered her more often than not. Once they were covered, she would be hard-pressed to decipher his stoic expressions.

They passed through empty corridors, the silence immensely unnerving. Frieza's ship was enormous. It should be swarming with people, not hauntingly empty.

They passed through another door, and Vegeta came to an abrupt stop. Bulma peered around his shoulder, her eyes widening in shock. She faced a bank of windows opening up to utter destruction. A huge chunk of the ship was missing, a scooped out hollow area, right in the center. It looked as if a bomb had gone off, or if someone had carelessly powered up.

Floors and walls were missing and she could see into entire rooms and empty hallways. They stacked on top of each other like cells in a hive. Wires sparked from severed electrical in the walls and floors, water bubbled out of piping. It was a huge, impassible mess.

Vegeta walked forward, pressing one forearm against the glass as he examined the devastation. Bulma stood beside him, taking it all in. She looked down, gasping when she saw stars. The entire bottom of the ship was gone. There was a thin blue force field, holding everything together, but she was surprised the whole ship hadn't ripped apart.

"Engineering is still intact," Vegeta observed, and Bulma followed his line of sight across the expanse. All she saw were broken rooms and shambles.

"Shouldn't we have felt something of this magnitude? I mean. Half the ship is gone!"

Vegeta looked down at her, shaking his head.

"The lower dungeon is in between the two main stabilizers for the ship. The whole damn thing could have blown and we wouldn't have felt a tremor."

"What do you think happened?" she asked eyes wide with curiosity and concern.

Vegeta shrugged, his wide shoulders rippling. "Battle."

Bulma waited for more of an explanation, but Vegeta didn't have one. Instead he turned on his heel, stalking over to a double door leading out into the destruction.

"What are you doing?" Bulma snapped, panicked.

"We have to get to engineering."

Bulma snorted. "I hate to break it to you, tough guy, but it might as well be in the next dimension. There is no way we are getting across that."

Vegeta pressed his fingers between the two doors, straining to pull them apart. Bulma watched his muscles bulge and flex with the effort. The doors cracked, and then wrenched open loudly.

"We'll climb." Vegeta stepped up to the edge, looking down into nothingness. Bulma came up beside him, looking down as well. Vertigo struck her, and she hurriedly hopped back before she fell over the edge.

"So not going to happen. You might be able to scamper around like some sort of monkey. No pun intended. But I sure as hell can't. Good luck. Call me when you get there." She stalked up to the wall furthest from the door, sliding down so she sat on the floor with her legs crossed.

Vegeta was leaning out the portal, one arm braced on the frame as he tugged on some wiring on the outer wall. She heard an electrical crackle fizzle out into nothing. Vegeta pulled himself back in, looking over his shoulder at her.

Seeing that she planted herself on the floor, he frowned, but she just lifted her chin in defiance. Bulma was well aware of her limitations, and imitating Spiderman was one of them.

Vegeta gracefully crossed the distance between them, looming over her. He braced one arm on the wall above her head so he could look down on her. She fidgeted nervously, pulling the hem of her shirt down between her legs to shield herself.

"I can't do it, Vegeta. I'm not strong enough."

"I can carry you on my back."

Bulma shot him a disbelieving glance, her eyes scanning down his naked chest. He had muscles on top of muscles, but it was the collar that caught her eye. If he still had use of his ki she would consider it. But at the moment he wasn't much stronger than a human man. Well maybe a little bit stronger, with a lot more stamina, but it still wasn't enough to carry them both across the huge expanse. She didn't want to fall to her death. It was counterproductive to living. She crossed her arms over her chest mutinously.

"Nope."

"I need you to disable the collar for me," he reminded her softly.

"Just bring the tools back here." She thought it was a reasonable request. She would wait patiently while he did whatever it was he needed to do.

"So you would have me cross it twice?" he asked disbelievingly, his eyebrow cocked.

She looked up at him guiltily before glancing away. She hadn't thought of it that way. She picked at her shirt. She didn't want to see Vegeta get hurt. She didn't think she could stand to watch him fall to his death, but crossing would be so much easier for him if he didn't have to carry her.

"It would be dangerous for you to carry me."

"It would be dangerous for you to stay. What if someone happens by while I'm gone?"

Bulma swallowed, glancing down the hall from the corner of her eye. Even though the ship was graveyard empty, not everyone could be gone. There had to be survivors somewhere.

"It's not fair to you, Vegeta. I'll drag you down."

Vegeta was stunned into silence for a moment. Never once had anyone ever put his welfare before their own before. His men served him, they protected him as was their duty, but they hadn't fostered any sort of caring for him. She was genuinely afraid she would drag him down. She was afraid of him coming to harm. Something warm and bright expanded in his chest. He never realized how cold he was until he met her. Vegeta hunkered down in front of her, so they were at eye level.

"You trust me?" He threw her words back at her. She held his gaze, looking deep into the darkness of his eyes.

She did trust him. She trusted his strength and determination. She trusted his honesty and integrity. If Vegeta said he could get them both across then she believed him. She had too. Besides if they fell, she would have plenty of time to damn him to hell before they splattered at the bottom. She nodded slowly, placing her small hand in his outstretched palm. His hand closed around hers and she instantly felt secure. She graced him with a tiny smile as he pulled her to her feet, leading her to the doorway.

Bulma stared into the drop-off apprehensively. By her calculations, it was a long, _long_ way down. Vegeta's strong arm swept her behind him, helping her up onto his broad back. She tightly wound her arms around his neck, trying hard to remember not to strangle him, and pressed her face into the valley between his shoulder blades. The less she saw, the less likely she would panic and kill them both. Vegeta's tail wrapped around her waist, securely binding her to him. She inhaled, taking his masculine scent deep into her lungs. She was comforted by him. She felt safe just by touching her skin to his. She clasp her thighs around his hips, and closed her eyes, thinking about making love, and not being precariously suspended above certain death.

Without warning, Vegeta swung out with one arm, whipping them around so he was clinging to the wall outside the door. She squealed, squeezing her eyes to keep them firmly shut. Her entire body tightened around his, her full breasts flattened on his back.

"Just relax," he told her, quiet authority ringing in his voice. Automatically, she loosened her grip around his throat, giving him air to breathe.

Steadily he moved across the broken wall, carefully choosing his handholds before inching forward. She could feel his muscles bulge and ripple beneath her, and she feared her weight would be too much. Carrying himself alone would be exhausting, but adding her dead weight dragging on his back had to be impossible.

"This is a bad idea, Vegeta. Put me back. I'm going to get us both killed."

"Quiet," he snapped, reaching for another handhold. She heard something slide away, and Vegeta sagged, holding onto the wall with one hand. She glanced down, terrified as a slender piece of metal fell for a horrendously long time before obliterating into sparks as it hit the force field.

Vegeta heaved himself up, latching onto a steadfast piece of the wall, grunting with the effort. He paused there, resting his weight on the balls of his feet.

"Do not distract me again, woman," Vegeta commanded, full of simmering anger. She nodded against his neck, holding back her tears.

Vegeta could feel her cheek pressed against him, her lashes butterfly soft on his skin. She was so light it was like feathers on his back, but the press of her body against his reminded him of the burden he carried. One mistake and they would both die. He tightened his tail around her slender waist, holding her tightly against him. He glanced across the expanse, plotting his course. He had reached the most critical part of his crossing. A waterfall cascaded from the burst pipes, the air pressure forcing the water out in a steady stream. There was no way he could cross through it without being thrust off the wall, but he could go up. The only problem was the next handhold was at least three feet above his reach. He would have to leap to grab it. He was confident he could do so, even with the extra weight on his back, but the next hurdle concerned him. By going above the burst pipe, it meant he had to cross a deep crack in the structure. The width of it was daunting. It would take an enormous amount of strength to propel himself and Bulma across the gap, and he would need to unwind his tail from her for the extra balance. When he hit the far wall, he would need to scramble for handholds, and the impact could conceivably knock them both off.

"Hold on."

He leaned back, clinging onto the side with just his fingertips and toes. He bounced a few times, testing the strength in his calves. He centered his entire being on the protruding lip of metal he needed to reach. He bent down, gripping tight with his fingers and flexed his legs hard. Using the strength in his arms and legs he leapt up the sheer face. His hands found purchase, but his feet dangled. Bulma's legs slipped around his waist, and her weight dragged on his throat. He ignored the pain, the need to breath, and concentrated on finding a crevice to shove his toes.

Knowing he needed help, Bulma quickly scrambled up his back, to take her weight off his neck. She found a hole for her foot, and quickly stepped into it, giving Vegeta a much needed rest. He soon found his footing, and leaned into the wall, resting his sweating forehead against the cool metal.

While he caught his breath, Bulma looked around, stoically refusing to glance down. Immediately, she understood Vegeta's plan and she gulped as terror took a stranglehold on her throat.

"You know what, Vegeta? Maybe you should go first. Then I can leap across and you can catch me."

She pressed her face against the back of his neck as she spoke, and he could feel the soft caress of her lips against his skin. He shook his head in response. They both knew she would never make. Agile as she was, she didn't have the physical strength to hurl her body across the width of the ravine. Once he was on the other side, she would either refuse to move, and he would be unable to persuade her or she would try and fall to her death. Either result was not beneficial to him. He needed her to undo the collar checking his strength. He was unwilling to think about the coldness waiting to infect him again once she was gone.

"Vegeta," she cajoled softly, and he could hear the fear in her voice. Fear for his safety. For his well-being. It was a disturbingly foreign idea to him. He grimaced, feeling a poignant ache in his chest. He shook it off, attributing it to strain.

"No," he replied authoritatively, and refocused his gaze on where he needed to land. He wasn't going to give her the chance to get away and leave him restrained by his collar.

He pulled his weight to the side, forcing her to wrap her legs around him again. He leaned away from the crack so he could thrust himself forward with every bit of momentum he could muster. He rocketed across the distance, but in midair he damned himself as he unfurled his tail. He had forgotten to warn Bulma to hold on as tight as she could. He hit the far wall with such tremendous impact he bounced back. He grunted as the air whooshed out of his lungs, and he scrambled to find any handhold possible.

As they rebounded, Bulma lost her precarious grip and fell backwards, sliding off Vegeta. She screamed, the piercing sound bouncing off the broken metal, sounding like hundreds of condemned souls. Vegeta was sliding down the wall, unable to find purchase anywhere on the slick metal wall. Knowing he may die, he did the only thing he could do to help Bulma. He whipped out his tail, wrapping it tightly around her fragile wrist.

Suddenly his foot slid into a notch on the wall, and his fingers curled around a sharp piece of metal peeling away from the wall. He held on tight, ignoring the bit of metal teeth digging into his ungloved fingers, cutting him bone deep. Bulma came up short, yanking painfully on his tail as she dangled below him. Vegeta grunted in agony, clenching his jaw until the tendons of his neck stood out starkly against his flushed skin.

He still didn't have a grip for his other hand, and the metal dug deeper into his fingers with every moment. Far to the side, he could see a wide ledge opening into a room. He could leap into it easily if he wasn't weighed down by the woman. He looked down, right into Bulma's huge blue eyes.

"Vegeta," she whispered through lips whitened by stark terror. He could see it welling up in her eyes, and in the porcelain pallor of her skin. Tears were streaming from the corners of her eyes, sliding back into her mess of blue hair that waved away from her face. Below her he could see the hungry glow of the force field, and he knew she would feel no pain as it disintegrated her into nothing. Biting the insides of his cheeks, he kept his gaze locked with hers as he slowly with great pain lifted her up with his tail. He reached down with his free hand, his fingers stretching out for hers. She reached for him, pulling her weight up on his tail. Her small hand fitted in his large one, so tiny he was afraid it might slip away. He locked his fingers around her wrist, hauling her up while ignoring the slicing pain in his fingers still clinging to the broken metal.

Unexpectedly, he swung her away from his body, out into the empty void. She screamed, her blue eyes wide in terror and betrayal. At the pinnacle of her arc he swung her back through the air like a pendulum on a clock. She whirled past him, flying upwards. When she was at shoulder height, Vegeta's strong fingers slipped away from her wrist, and she flew backwards. Too terrified to scream, she merely stared into Vegeta's black eyes as she hurdled away from him. She crashed into a wall, crumpling onto solid ground.

Vegeta followed her, landing on his feet with the rangy grace of a jungle cat. He towered over her, his well-built chest glistening with sweat. All she could do was stare. He looked like a god. He was built of slick bronze muscles and angry fire in his black eyes. He frowned, his beautiful cruel lips telling tales of the devastation he could wreck with a simple harsh word. She trembled, in awe of his sheer physical strength. She recognized that she might be deifying him, but good god if there was ever a man to lose her mind over, it was him. She pulled her eyes away before she lost all her self-respect and started groveling at his feet to fuck her right then and there. She really needed to avoid life or death situations. They turned her into an adrenaline slut.

"You thought I was going to drop you," Vegeta accused softly, his black eyes missing nothing. Her eyes widened in shock, and she struggled to her knees.

"No, I didn't. I swear." His accusation struck something deep inside of her, wounding her. She didn't want him to believe she trusted him so little. He snorted, turning away, but her fragile fingers latched onto his thick wrist, restraining him. "I have complete faith in you, Vegeta," she assured him softly.

His black eyes burned into her, daring her to retract her statement. Shyly she dropped her gaze to carefully examine his wound. He didn't respond, and frankly he didn't know what to say. She surprised him at every turn. She kept him off balance, and as much as it was unsettling, he found it wasn't completely unlikable. She frowned and small lines formed between her brows. He resisted the urge to smooth them out with his thumb, instead standing motionless as she tore her sleeve off to bandage him.

His eyes narrowed as she worked, roaming over her unprotected skin still streaked with her own blood. She was in greater need of nursing than he. As soon as they reached engineering and removed the collar he would be sure to take her to the medical bay.

That in mind, he scanned the halved room, looking for an exit. As he thought there was a door, hopefully leading out into an intact hallway. She knotted the fabric around his hand, and he brushed her away when she finished. He could feel her scowl at his back, but he ignored it. She deserved a little rudeness after believing he would drop her into the abyss. Hadn't he already told her, he needed her to remove the collar?

Shelving had fallen across the portal, but it was easy enough for him to clear it away and wrench open the door. The hallway was passable, with only a few sections of wall and floor missing. It would be easy enough to skirt around the holes and make way to their destination.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from DBZ.

A/N: Thank you, guys for all your wonderful reviews. I really do cherish them. I would like to get your feedback. How many of you would be interested in a story of Gohan and Videl set in the Against All Odds universe?

Free My Heart

He led the way without bothering to check if Bulma followed. He knew she wasn't stupid, and there would be no reason for her to loiter now they had safely passed their last hurdle. He came to the entrance to engineering, nonplussed when he found the door sealed. He tried to pry it open, but it wouldn't budge. Frustrated he slammed his fist into it, angered when the hard steel didn't even dent.

"Not everything requires brute force, Vegeta."

Bulma was kneeling at the control panel, prying the hard plastic cover off with a thin piece of metal she found. Seeing what she was up too, Vegeta stood over her, legs planted wide, arms crossed. He waited patiently while she fiddled with the electrical board, testing the circuits until she found the right one. She smiled widely at him when the door slid open, and he couldn't help the small curving his lips in response. Satisfied, she hopped up, standing by the door while Vegeta went ahead to check for danger. Seeing the room was empty, he motioned her in. His black eyes glinted as she gasped at the plethora of technology. She darted back and forth, looking at everything all at once, and discovering the tools she need almost immediately.

"Now get this fucking collar off me, woman. I have business that needs attending to."

She rolled her eyes, holding up a tiny screwdriver she found in a nearby cabinet. She sauntered over to him, a deliciously wicked smirk on her lips as she twirled the tool in her slender fingers.

"Say please," she purred, her blue eyes winking up him.

He gripped her hand, pulling it into his chest so he could lean down until they were nose to nose.

"Now," he growled softly, nipping at her pink lips. She shuddered, her eyes becoming heavy lidded. She loved the taste of him, the feel of him against her skin. She was just a little bit addicted to the man.

She backed away teasingly, but he didn't allow her to go far. He picked her up by the waist and swung her up onto a table, so she could easily reach the collar. He stepped between her spread thighs, leaning into her.

"Work now, play later." It was a command he was hard pressed to make. He wanted nothing more than push her back on the table and indulge in the invitation curving on her lips to kiss her thoughtless, but his power was still restrained by the collar and he had no idea what dangers were waiting to leap on them at any moment. He couldn't protect her if he was still imprisoned.

She wrinkled her nose, her luscious lower lip protruding.

"Fine. Later. But remember, you promised."

His black eyes lit up, but his face remained cool. He dipped his head in acknowledgment before turning around to let her work.

As Bulma carefully scrutinized the collar, Vegeta gradually became aware of the scrolling green text on the computer terminal on the other side of the room. He was too far away to read it, but slow creeping dread gathered in the bottom of his gut.

"Aha, I knew it had to do with the flashing lights. I just need to fire the circuits in a certain sequence. This collar is nothing more than an electronic lock and the lights are broadcasting the key."

The thick, heavy collar came undone with a tiny click accompanied by Bulma's hoot of success. He felt a small, electrical zap at the base of his neck, skittering down along his spinal column. He knew from experience it could take up to an hour for his full strength to return. It took time for synapses to fire, and the nerves his ki traveled though to revitalize. He sighed deeply in relief, his thick chest expanding as he tasted the air around him newly flavored with the spice of freedom.

Needing to know what information was scrolling on the screen, Vegeta ignored Bulma and strode directly to the display, leaving her behind with the collar pinched between her fingers and the beginnings of a scowl on her beautiful face.

"A 'thank you' would be nice," she snapped. "Maybe, 'good job not blowing us up'."

When he didn't respond she hopped off the table and skirted up next to him, examining the screen holding his undivided attention. The writing was foreign to her, but it was clear it was a list of some sort.

"What is it, Vegeta?"

"The dead," he replied distractedly. In every soldier's suit was a biometric that fed the main database the soldier's vitals. As far as Vegeta could see, almost all of the officers stationed on the ship were dead. He flipped a panel on the console, bringing up a standard touch screen, cycling through commands with fluid ease. Those who saw to the ship's functions, and lower level soldiers had jettisoned. He checked the escape pods, noting there were several left. Bulma watched him closely, pulling up her own screen to mimic him. Soon she was navigating through various displays.

Vegeta continued to ignore her, his entire attention focused as he searched through the deceased. Both Zarbon and Jeice were dead. He paused, glancing at Bulma. The tip of her tongue was peeking out from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated hard on deciphering the technology in front of her. She really was beautiful, and now she would be safe from at least two of her tormentors. Some of the tightness in his chest he had been carrying around for the last several days loosened.

Turning his concentration back to the terminal, he typed in more names. Unbelievingly, every single member of the Ginyu Force were also dead. Vegeta didn't know how to process the information. The elation he felt in his soul was overwhelming. He had no greater enemies than Frieza's elite personal guards. With them gone there was no one standing between him and his destiny to kill Frieza. Soon he would be strong enough to avenge his people, to finally make his father proud of him.

"Goku," Bulma whispered in awe beside him. He jerked his head to the side, glancing at her screen. He saw a tall man with dark jutting hair, talking to a group of human prisoners. There were on the dungeon sub-level just above where they had been incarcerated. They must have passed right below them, and because of the collar, Vegeta hadn't felt a whisper of his enemy's presence.

He looked at him closely, seeing his rival for the first time. He smiled lopsidedly at the group, his hand scratching the back of his head. He didn't seem to be much of a threat. His physique and hair told of his Saiyan heritage, but Vegeta didn't see a tail. Without it, he was impotent. The Saiyan tail was the source of their power and without he was nothing more than a eunuch.

Bulma brushed her fingers over the view screen, touching the man's face almost lovingly. Vegeta's upper lip curled in disgust as he watched her. He dismissed the man as a physical rival, but Bulma's apparent affection for him twisted Vegeta's guts. He turned away with a snarl, refocusing his attention on his console. He needed to rid himself of the animal possessiveness he felt over her. They were free now. He no longer had to suffer her presence if he didn't want to. He was free to walk away from her at anytime.

He closed his eyes against the wave of sorrow cascading through him. He told himself repeatedly his emotions were nothing more than a by-product of sleep deprivation. Coldness crept into his bones, and even with his reawakened ki, he couldn't seem to warm himself. He needed to concentrate on what was important to him. What was necessary. He had the expectation of an entire race to keep him warm. The pride of his family.

Breathless anticipation and gut-clenching dread unfurled through his veins. He typed in one last name.

"Oh my God," Bulma gasped at the exact moment Vegeta rocked back on his heels in shock. He could feel Bulma vibrate with intense emotion beside him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the words on his screen.

It wasn't until she collapsed to her knees, her hands flat on the panel, her forehead pressed against cold steel console that Vegeta shifted his eyes catching her view screen. All he saw was a vast asteroid field, large chunks of rocks floating listlessly in space. Bulma gave a keening wail, jerking Vegeta's attention to her.

He reacted on instinct, dragging her off her knees by one arm. He expected her to stand, but she just hung limply from his grasp. She wasn't crying. There was no expected river of tears flooding down her face. Her eyes were screwed shut, her head lolling back on her shoulders as she wailed. The sound was ear-splitting, soul-cringingly sad. It was the sound of loss. The sound of unequaled pain.

"What the fuck is the matter with you, woman?" Vegeta growled at her, shaking her to gain her attention. She fell forward into his chest, tucking her head beneath her chin as she took a deep shuddering breath. She wrapped her arms around his waist, using him as a support.

"Earth. It's gone. It's completely gone."

She sagged against him, and he instinctively held onto her so she wouldn't fall to the ground. He glanced back at her view screen, watching as another chunk of dirt drifted by. Her planet was gone, and he could understand her loss. It was a terrible thing to realize you could never go home. That you were lost and alone in an unwelcoming universe. That there was no one left to comfort you.

He understood, but he didn't have time for it. He didn't know how or why, but it was a fact listed in black and green on the view screen as plain as could be. Frieza was dead. And along with him, Vegeta's destiny was destroyed. Before he was taken prisoner by the lizard tyrant his father told him that if the Saiyan rebellion was to fail then it would be Vegeta's duty to avenge his people and kill Frieza. Vegeta never forgot his father's last words to him. He lived and breathed them for twenty years, but now his enemy was dead and there was no voice of his father in the back of his mind to tell him what to do.

Vegeta's arms tightened around Bulma as she heaved against his chest, holding her against his heart, as he thought about what his father would do in this situation. The highest ranking officers in Frieza's army besides himself were dead. Millions of soldiers were still left, waiting king-less and soon lawless if someone didn't step in. The universe needed a new ruler. His father had been a king, a leader to an entire race of people. It stood to reason that he would want the same for his son. There was nothing Vegeta could do about Frieza's death, that destiny had been lost to him, but if he moved quickly he could fulfill his destiny to rule. It was what his father would have wanted of him.

Bulma's sorrow was suffocating. He had to get away from it. He had to distance himself from her now, or he would never be free. There was no place in his life for a woman such a she, so fragile and vulnerable. His life was blood and mayhem. Death and carnage. It certainly wasn't a life he wanted her to be part of.

He detangled himself from her, ignoring the freezing cold seeping into his chest. She huddled against the console, staring sightless at the remains of her world. Her friend was on the ship. Even now he was freeing her people. She would be protected. Everyone who sought to threaten her was dead. The most dangerous person on this ship was him. If he left now she would be safe.

He knew this day would come. Their time together had been nothing but a passing entanglement. His surprising affection for her was a side-effect of his sleep deprivation, nothing more. They had different paths to take. His future held no place for a woman, no matter how enticing she was.

He turned on his heel, leaving her behind before he could possibly change his mind.

Bulma snapped out of her stupor with sharp-eyed clarity. Vegeta wasn't in the room with her, and she _knew_, deep down inside where only instinct and primal knowledge reigned, he was leaving her.

She jumped to her feet and darted out of the room, catching him at the far end of the corridor. He couldn't leave her, not know. Not when she needed him the most.

"Vegeta!" She cried out desperately. He came to a standstill by the door, his back to her. He didn't answer her call, just waited emotionlessly for her to say her peace. The light in the hall flickered, leaving her behind in shadows, but he remained in a pool of light. She could see the bronze gleam of his skin as she came to a stop several steps behind him, knowing he wouldn't welcome her any closer. Honestly, she didn't know if she could bear to touch him. She might humiliate herself by hanging onto him for dear life, begging him to stay with her forever. There was a moment between pride and pain, where you had to decide if you had the strength to walk away with you head held high, or you crumpled under the deluge of agony so intense it didn't seem possible to survive it. Bulma stood at the cusp of that moment, staring at Vegeta's back.

"You promised," she gasped, the painful tightness in her chest squeezing all the air from her lungs. "You promised me." He promised to stay with her, to make love to her, to show her the wonders of his ki dancing on her skin. It was a feeble promise, but she was willing to latch onto anything to keep him by her side. She didn't want to see him go. She didn't want to be abandoned by him. They were enemies, brought together by circumstance, and now there was no reason for them to be together. No reason except for her unexplainable need for him. No reason except for the heat that arced between them.

She watched as the beautiful muscles across his back bunched and rippled. She soaked it in, watching every minute dance, knowing it would be the last time she would see his unspoken response. His hands fisted at his sides, but he refused to turn and face her.

"Promises are made to be broken." His voice was hollow, sounding as dead as she felt. The pain in her chest expanded, wrapping around her ribs until her spine ached, and her lungs burned. Her lips parted as she breathed through her mouth in an attempt to push down her tears. She pressed her hand flat between her breasts, massaging her heavy heart. Her stomach clenched, and every breath seemed to be a struggle.

For just a little while she had allowed herself to indulge in the girlish fantasy of 'Happily Ever After,' with the handsome and brooding hero. But this was real life. And in real life people walked out on you. Whether it was to the latest socialite ball or the next big invention, they always left. People never stayed unless there was something in it for them. Money, fame, maybe a quick fuck. Relationships were down and dirty, there only purpose was to satisfy whatever selfish needs each person had, because there was no such thing as true love. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, soul mates didn't exist either. It's just people passing the time with each other before moving on. That's why everyone from her college days were divorced. No matter how fervently they claimed to have found 'the one' it was only a few years before they started looking for the next best thing. Someone prettier, younger, handsomer, richer. In the end, no matter how hard you search everyone ends up alone, so maybe it was time to stop looking. Stop hoping.

When she didn't respond, he took a step away, widening the chasm between them.

"You never told me your heart's desire," she whispered across the distance, but he could hear her clearly. His head twitched to the side, and his muscles fluttered. He was silent for a long moment, and Bulma felt hope well up inside her. She bit her bottom lip, her hand clenching into a fist between her breasts as she waited.

"I have no heart," he finally pronounced, before walking out on her. She watched him leave with shocked, wide eyes, staring at the closed door he disappeared behind.

"I won't cry for you!" she screamed with all her might, knowing he would hear. She fell to her knees, choking back the sobs. She had cried so many tears in the last few weeks she was dry and raw inside. Empty and vast like the desert. The only moisture she had was blood and even that was thinning in her veins. She knelt in the dark, forever caught in the moment between pride and pain.

"I won't cry," she sobbed dryly to herself, wondering if she would ever be able to cry again.

THE END

A/N: Be sure to check out the sequel Free My Soul this summer.


End file.
